The Twisted Patriot

by Pirate Irwin

  At the same point as the vainglorious Steiner was toasting his latest victim and expecting a visit from the land’s most senior law officer, that very same man was instead entering Macmillan’s private study. Macmillan was already there, having held his last official engagement of the day, and was mulling over the guilty verdict handed down to Sebastian, which he received with a mixture of relief and sorrow. He shook hands rather stiffly with Kilmuir and indicated to him to sit down.

  “So we got out of jail then,” mumbled Macmillan in that familiar drawl of his. Kilmuir nodded somewhat nervously.

  “So will there be any fallout from this for us, do you think?” asked Macmillan.

  “Heaven knows, Prime Minister, that is for the more politically adept creatures of the Cabinet to advise you on, but I have some rather more disturbing news regarding the case which I felt you needed to know from me personally rather than over the telephone,” he said.

  Macmillan groaned. “Surely the verdict was an end to it. What more can they drag up on Stuart? The man has been found guilty and is going to be hanged, let him be, I say, and let us get on with governing the country, which is what I fully intend to do,” Macmillan said in an exasperated tone.

  “It isn’t Stuart that is the problem, Prime Minister, it is Steiner,” interjected Kilmuir impatiently.

  “Steiner! What on earth could be the problem with him?” asked a confused Macmillan. “If you’d said Mainwaring, I might have concurred, as I thought he played a rather strange, if honest, hand in the trial. It would have made matters a lot easier if he had been more subjective to our side,” Macmillan said.

  Kilmuir sighed, wishing Mac would shut up so he could tell him the reason why they had another major headache on their hands, and he knew it was him personally that would be held accountable for the decision to procure Steiner’s services. He deeply regretted having agreed to look into Steiner, when they had felt the case was going badly, but it was too late to draw back now and a lot hung on how Macmillan handled his news because, once again, Sebastian’s future was up in the air, even if he thought it was a bit of an unfortunate analogy to use.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  They came for Steiner two days later, once Macmillan had had the Lord Chancellor’s information double-checked, and once it had been confirmed there was no choice but to arrest the once vaunted barrister. Steiner was at home when the two detectives from Special Branch arrived on his doorstep.

  “Gentlemen, how can I help you?” asked a still exuberant Steiner when they were shown into his study. “Another top secret case, heh?” added Steiner tapping his nose in hush hush fashion and flashing one of his rare toothy smiles. He wasn’t feeling too good after spending the whole night carousing with the two hookers, drinking, smoking opium and having sex with both of them, as Mirabelle had frozen him completely out, not even deigning to congratulate him on his success. The two hookers by contrast had read every word about the case from three different newspapers – well, they had little choice as he had brought them round and as he was paying for their services, and generously too, they could rest up from his demands by reading all about his genius.

  The older of the two detectives smiled politely. “Sir, do you know Yelena Makarova and Georgiana Rubenstein?” he asked Steiner, his eyes never leaving the barrister’s face.

  Steiner was slightly taken aback at the question. “Er yes, why?”

  “How long for?” the detective asked, again in his courteous but firm manner.

  “I don’t really see what it is to do with you detective . . .”

  “Inspector.”

  “Yes, detective inspector. It may sound, and is seedy, for a man of my station to visit prostitutes but that is purely a moral question and certainly not a crime,” protested Steiner as he reached for the bottle of vodka on his drinks trolley, and poured himself half a glass, seeking to alleviate his mounting anger and consternation at the line of questioning.

  “It is certainly not a crime, no sir. And if I may be so bold as to say, they are two very decorative young women. But unfortunately they are not just decorative prostitutes but also Soviet spies based here in London,” the detective intoned gravely.

  Steiner’s hands were beginning to shake uncontrollably and it was nothing to do with the previous night’s antics. “A honey trap! Damn tarts! I guess I got more than I bargained for! But detective, so what, I am not of any great use to Soviet agents, I am just a barrister with no access to secrets of the state. Go see Stuart, or some others of his ilk, they would know more about that type of thing than I would,” he replied.

  The detective eyed him glacially and gestured for his partner to move nearer Steiner, who was seated behind his desk. “Ah, but that is where you are wrong, Mr Steiner, you are much more than just a simple barrister. They were a honey trap, yes, but for you, not to entice you into offloading information to them. You were using them to garner the information that you then supplied back to your masters in Moscow, which at our current estimates has cost the lives of several if not tens of our agents . . .”

  “This is preposterous. How dare you have the gall to even suggest that I would sell my country to the enemy? Get out now, for your own good, before I call on my good friend the Lord Chancellor, who, if you are not aware of it, I have just won a case for and he will not be best pleased that you have insulted me in such a fashion,” stormed Steiner.

  The detective held up his hands to halt any more of Steiner’s onslaught. “Sir, that will do you no good, though, of course you are perfectly free to do so if you wish, but I would be most surprised if he even took your call, because it was he who convinced the Prime Minister that you should be arrested and to be arraigned as a traitor,” he said firmly. Steiner felt himself losing control of his capacities, the after effects of the opium didn’t help . . . The shock of the news also had its consequences and he felt the warm wet sensation of urine filling his trousers, which further distracted him. He gulped down the last dregs of vodka in the glass and slumped forward onto his desk, his head in his hands, shaking it forcibly and sobbing, his shoulders heaving and he could sense he was going to throw up. He asked if he could go to the bathroom, but the detective said he would have to wait a minute while he went through the formalities. “Adam Steiner, I am arresting you on the charge of high treason. Anything you may say can be taken down and used in evidence against you,” and with that the detective inspector instructed his younger associate to take the once great barrister but, who now cut a sorry figure with his matted hair, dishevelled appearance and urine-saturated trousers, off to the bathroom. He threw up for over five minutes, so hard that his oesophagus hurt and his eyes stung from the tears forcing themselves to the surface. Having slightly collected himself, he thought about trying to climb through the window and making a run for it. However, he accepted glumly that he wouldn’t get very far, and besides he didn’t have too many addresses he could go to, as he hadn’t made too many friends on his determined way up the ladder.

  The two girls’ house was out of the question as they had obviously been picked up. He shuffled out of the bathroom into the hall still dressed in his stinking black trousers, accompanied by the ever-silent younger detective to see the inspector talking to Mirabelle. She looked at him momentarily with such a look of disgust that he winced and put his hands to his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at her again. However, he was relieved of that option once the handcuffs were placed on him. The last sensation he ever felt from his wife was the searing hatred emanating from her as he was led past her and out into the blinding sunshine, with the sound of the door slamming behind him forever.

  *

  The cell door swung open and Sebastian stepped into the small space warily, all too familiar with the surroundings, having spent several months encased within its damp dark walls, walking round and round the hole, as he called it, trying to keep his mind alert, although it wasn’t because of any appeal, as that was a forlorn hope, he imagined. Keeping himself mentally alive f
or his own hanging may have seemed a wee bit of a perverse action to take, but he had managed it in Flossenburg, and he had survived that in far worse conditions, but it was one last challenge for him. However, all that was past now and as his eyes got used to the darkness, which was only broken by a small beam of light invading from the corridor, he tried to make out the usual shapes such as the thin mattressed bed, the small wooden table and chair, which under strict prison technocratic procedures always had to remain in the same place. There were no special privileges for those about to die at her Majesty’s pleasure.

  “Shall I stay by the door sir?” asked the prison guard. Sebastian shook his head and dismissed him. He wanted to be alone for his last moments . . . with Adam.

  Steiner’s wiry frame swung itself off the bed and he stood rather wearily, blinking with the sudden glare of the light from outside. Sebastian was quite shocked at his appearance, gone the neat and smart look, replaced by longish hair, unshaven face and tatty clothes. He imagined, though, that the arrogance within his former friend was undimmed. He was not to be disappointed.

  “You!” rasped Adam’s reedy voice, devoid of the authority he had displayed so many times in court, but had so singularly failed to demonstrate when it came to his moment to defend himself, drawing unfavourable comparisons with Sebastian’s brazen if courageous performance.

  Sebastian smiled and nodded without saying anything.

  “Come to crow over my last night on earth, then have you?” sneered Steiner.

  “You could say that. Although I felt you and I might make our peace before you go your way and I carry on the life that you thought you had brought to a close. But, as ever, I cheated the Grim Reaper. It’s a shame you don’t possess such an ability in escapology Adam,” remarked Sebastian drily.

  Steiner laughed harshly.

  “The only time I escaped death was when you saved my life, and then that set us on this terrible course we have played out,” Steiner said.

  “Whatever it was, it has come to a terrible climax, Adam,” said Sebastian gently.

  “So how long have you been out for?” asked Steiner.

  “Two weeks. Once they sorted out that you were definitely guilty there was no way they were going to keep me in jail, though there were many who would prefer I dropped away quietly,” he said.

  “And will you?”

  “What do you think? Of course not, old boy, it simply isn’t my style. If they think that I am blithely going to follow my father out to some Pacific island and ravage the local female populace, becoming some sort of freak show to visiting tourists, then they are wrong. No, I will sit here, take my holidays abroad when necessary, and make what I can of my political career,” he said, rather too smugly for Steiner’s liking.

  “Political career! That’s a laugh. How do you expect to continue your career? You were found guilty as charged. I cannot for the life of me remember a traitor being allowed to continue to serve as an elected politician. As ever, your boundless arrogance never fails to astound me,” hissed Steiner.

  “At least I still have the chance. You, however, have but one certain date,” bristled Sebastian.

  “So, I am resigned to it. I did what I thought was best out of principle and for the world. Sadly I have been judged as having done the opposite,” said Steiner.

  “As did I. However, you in your duplicitous life judged me to have done the wrong thing. Who, pray, is the hypocrite here? You were under no threat for your life, I was and I took what as you already know was the most honourable option,” blustered Sebastian.

  “That is rich! The most honourable option, you say? Poppycock! Serving in one of the most evil armies ever to disgrace itself on the field of battle. You really are living on another planet. At least I will go to my death not living under an illusion. You, on the other hand, will carry on becoming more and more of a weirdo, and a living freak show, as you would not want to be remembered for. It is just as well you won’t be around to read your obituaries, they will make sad reading. Perhaps, though, it is a good thing that you are to live, as sooner or later you will realize what it is to be a pariah, where you are shunned by all but the most base and fanatical elements of society. Whereas I will be dead, you will be a reminder of the living dead, save, no doubt if you return to West Germany for one of those regimental reunions, for that is the only group you will still find a haven amongst,” said Steiner acidly.

  “Very well, Adam. I don’t have much time left and it is certainly not going to be devoted to what your vision of my future is. I just wanted to let you know that whatever provisions you have made for Mirabelle and my son, I will ensure that they never go hungry and will always have a home to come to,” Sebastian said smoothly.

  Steiner winced and turned his back on Sebastian, putting his hands to his head, and started to shudder.

  “You all right, old boy?” Sebastian asked, rather too patronizingly.

  “Of course I am! A man about to die is allowed one wish and I am going to use it up with you. I do not, repeat do not, want you to go near them. You have never taken responsibility for them, never asked about your son, who I regard as mine after all the money and time I have invested in him. As for Mirabelle, well, you can remember I am sure, how you treated her. So for you to come to me on the eve of my execution, piously declaring that you are here to protect them does not wash with me. So, stay away, Sebastian, and go off and wreck some other unsuspecting woman’s life. You have done enough damage already,” scowled Adam.

  “Whatever you say, Adam. However, you will never know if your wish has been granted and besides, it is widely held that to openly express a wish is to render it useless. You will just have to take my word for it, something you don’t value in any case,” replied Sebastian, who had no intention of granting his former best friend’s wish and in any case, he had been seeing Mirabelle regularly since he left prison. She had visited him several times during his incarceration and they had made their peace, saying things that only come easy when one thinks that one’s life is coming to an end. As no doubt many such things were expressed in scenes on the Titanic, as the massive coffin slid dramatically into the icy waters of the Atlantic. This time he was ready to honour his promise to Mirabelle, and her wishes overrode those of this pathetic creature standing in front of him.

  Sebastian sighed and could hear the footsteps of the prison guard echoing off the stone paving of the corridor and realized that their time together was nearly up, so he gathered his hat and brushed the dust off its underside gathered from the surface of the table. Steiner, too, acknowledged that they were in the last few minutes of what had been a destructive relationship, one that had been indelibly linked, and for without which he would probably never have lived quite such a driven life. They were useless without each other, but kept alive by their very animosity to each other, the hate birds, he styled it and if one were to die then the other surely would follow soon after, though he restrained himself from uttering such a commentary to Sebastian.

  They stood there in an awkward silence, awaiting the click of the keys in the door and reflected on what they should say as a final farewell, united in hatred but inseparably linked by something deeper even than that feeling.

  “Why did you really do it, Adam?” asked Sebastian. “Why throw away everything for some vain principle when you had so much? I had nothing and chose a way out which eventually led me to feeling repulsed by what I did. But you remain unrepentant, why?”

  “Ah well, that would be telling,” replied Adam coyly. “But tell me. Why after all you did to preserve your life by joining the Germans did you turn round and challenge them with the probability of only one outcome? Surely not guilt!”

  “As an American poet Ella Wheeler Wilcox once wrote: ‘To sin by silence when we should protest makes cowards out of men’. I took the opposite route, as I have never been a coward. Everything I did may have been out of sheer opportunism, and with my self-preservation foremost in my mind, but suddenly there dawns upon one
self that there are ways of redressing the balance and I found it. I only wish you had too,” replied Sebastian sadly.

  With that, the door swung open, the bulky frame of the prison guard blocking out most of the light, but with the shafts that appeared either side of his body, Sebastian could see Adam had tears in his eyes. Sebastian stepped towards him, arms spread wide, as if to embrace him. Adam stood stock still and allowed Sebastian to get close to him before he shoved him away.

  “Steiner, stop that at once or else I will take action!” barked the guard.

  Sebastian held up his hands. “There’s no need for that, officer. Mr Steiner was just making his own farewell gesture. He is entitled to it. Let’s go and leave him to contemplate what remains of his life, shall we? Goodbye, Adam, may it be quick for you,” said Sebastian softly before turning and exiting the cramped space, which only weeks before he had expected to be his final abode.

  The door clanged shut behind them, leaving Steiner once again in darkness, unable to move as he let the tears stream down his face, shoulders heaving, as he realized he would never see again the only person he had loved and hated in equal measure.

  Sebastian felt a great weight lifted from him as he got into his chauffeur-driven car, as if he had been to confession, even if it had been a Protestant visiting with a Jew. He decided, though, that to sleep with Mirabelle on the eve of her husband’s execution would be too much even for him, despite the fact she and their son had no intention of seeing Steiner prior to his moment of meeting his Maker. Thus, he instructed the driver to take him back to his house, and thereby set in train his own final date with destiny. The driver dropped him off outside the house and drove off to park the car. Sebastian pulled his keys from his pocket, as he had let the staff off for the night, and approached the steps before he noticed that there was someone standing in the shadows to his left. He turned and saw a rather large figure step out of them.