by Ken Lussey
‘Thanks, Archibald. There is one more thing you might be able to help me with,’ said Bob.
‘What’s that?’ asked Archibald.
‘If you stand on the White Bridge, or on the pier for that matter, you don’t really get much sense of the real length of Loch Arkaig because of the landscape. But the one thing that does stand out is a little island perhaps half a mile along the loch. What can you tell me about that?’
‘You are thinking that the gold might be hidden on the island?’ asked Archibald.
‘I don’t know, really,’ said Bob. ‘It’s just that it’s close to the pier where we found the coin and where Captain Bell was murdered. There may be a connection.’
‘Well there’s no denying that it is an island with an interesting history, even if we don’t know much of that history. It’s called Eilean Loch Airceig. The west end of the island is natural rock, but in prehistoric times my ancestors expanded the size of the island with stones, and built a crannog on it, a sort of defensive island dwelling. You can think of the crannog on Loch Arkaig as the earliest predecessor of the first Achnacarry Castle. Nothing much remains of the crannog apart from the expanded island. Sometime later, in the medieval period, my rather more recent ancestors built a chapel on the island. This was called St Columba’s Chapel and its ruins can still be seen on the northern side of Eilean Loch Airceig. It is also possible to see a wall that surrounded a burial ground beside the chapel. This was the traditional burial ground of the Camerons of Locheil. There are records that show the chapel was still in use in the 1600s, but sometime later it became a ruin. I can see why someone might think of it as a possible hiding place for the Loch Arkaig gold, but the stories that exist all seem to point further west.’
‘I’m tempted to go and have a look anyway,’ said Bob, ‘mainly to look for signs of recent activity. The island looks fairly heavily wooded from a distance.’
‘It is,’ said Archibald. ‘I’d say it had returned to nature if it weren’t for the fact that part of it was artificial to start with. If you are thinking of visiting, the best place to land is probably on the southern side. You might not have noticed it, but there’s another even smaller island a short distance to the south west of Eilean Loch Airceig. It’s called An t-Eilean Beag. Again, there’s nothing to suggest any link with the stories of the gold. And, if you are thinking about a boat trip on Loch Arkaig, make sure you watch out for the water horse.’
‘The what?’ asked Bob.
‘The water horse. We’ve all read a lot in the newspapers over the past few years about a mysterious beast in Loch Ness. Not many people know of stories of similar creatures in other lochs. Only eight miles west of the west end of Loch Arkaig is the east end of Loch Morar. That loch is over a thousand feet deep in places, and since the end of the last century there have been sightings of an unexplained creature there. As for Loch Arkaig, there have been many sightings dating back to the last century of what is known as the water horse.’
‘You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?’
The old man’s eyes twinkled. ‘Perhaps just a little, Bob, but the stories have existed for a long time, and what is it they say about smoke and fire?’
Bob laughed. ‘Anyway, I’m sorry to have taken up so much of your time, Archibald, and I’m extremely grateful for what you’ve been able to tell us.’
‘I’m happy to help at any time,’ said Archibald. ‘And I want you to promise to let me know what happens. The legend of that gold has been part of the background to my life, and it feels so strange to have seen and touched part of it, even if only a very small part of it.’
As Lieutenant Dixon drove the short distance back to Achnacarry, Bob sat in the back of the car with Monique, trying to get his thoughts in order. ‘Well, I’m not sure what I was expecting from our visit to Archibald, but it certainly wasn’t that. Thank you, Clive, I’m very grateful.’
‘Did you notice how that black cat never moved a muscle the entire time we were there?’ asked Sanderson. ‘It just lay in front of the fire, as if we didn’t exist.’
‘Do you think we should visit Eilean Loch Airceig, sir?’ asked Dixon.
‘I rather believe we should,’ said Bob. ‘Clive, do you mind if we borrow the boat that’s up there, either later today or tomorrow morning?’ He looked at his watch. ‘Most likely tomorrow, if I’m honest.’
‘I am sure Lieutenant Colonel White will have no objection to your borrowing the boat, sir’ said Sanderson. ‘Everyone else does, apparently.’
‘That’s an interesting thought,’ said Bob. ‘I don’t know how many military police you have available to look after security here, but would it be possible to have them guard the pier? I’d like to make sure the killer no longer has access to the boat. We may not know who he is yet, but there’s no harm trying to put him under a bit of pressure.’
‘I think we can manage that, sir,’ said Sanderson. He smiled. ‘If this were a story by Agatha Christie, I’d be asking how you were so sure the killer is a “he”. After all, according to Kipling, the female of the species is deadlier than the male. But in the circumstances, I think you’ll turn out to be correct.’
‘On the grounds that the only female within miles wasn’t actually here at the time?’ asked Monique, smiling.
‘That’s right, Madame Dubois.’
Chapter Fifteen
‘Hello, Major Leclercq, it’s Group Captain Sutherland here from Military Intelligence Section 11. I’m sorry I wasn’t available when you telephoned back.’
‘That’s no problem, Group Captain. Are you any nearer to finding who killed Private Lambrechts?’
‘I think we’ve made some progress today, Major. Have you been able to find out anything that might help get us any closer?’
‘I think so, Group Captain. I talked to most of the men in Private Lambrechts’ former platoon during the day. The picture I’ve been getting from everyone fits very closely with the picture I gave you myself, when we spoke this morning. Hannes Lambrechts was of course a very young man, no more than a boy, really. He was also a very private man, and quite shy. He was the sort of man who would stand at the back of a crowd rather than push to the front of it to make his voice heard. As I told you this morning, this did not get in the way of his being a very good soldier. Whenever I saw him in training there was something totally committed about him. He worked harder than those around him, even though many of the other men are older and stronger. That was why I recommended him so strongly when he applied for the commandos.’
‘Did he have many friends?’ asked Bob.
‘No, not many. During his time with us he did get to know a few of the men, though, and I’ve been able to talk to them today. Given what you said, I asked each of them directly whether they had ever heard him talking about looking for someone. Two of those I spoke to had heard him mention it, when they were talking about home or family, but he’d never revealed any details.’
‘How about a sweetheart?’
‘I was just coming to that, Group Captain. As I said before, he was a quiet and shy young man. We are based in Tenby, in south Wales, and it would be fair to say that over the two years since the Free Belgian Forces arrived in Wales, several relationships have developed. There have even been some marriages between our men and Welsh girls. I didn’t expect to get a positive reply, but I did ask those who knew Hannes Lambrechts about any girlfriends. I was surprised to find that he had formed a close friendship with a local girl who is training to be a primary school teacher, Anne Davies. She is two or three years older than Hannes, but it seems that since they first met a year ago, they have become close.’
‘Did he ever say anything to her about why he was searching for someone?’
‘Apparently not, Group Captain, but I think I found out what you want to know anyway. Earlier this afternoon I had the unpleasant duty of going to see Miss Anne Davies to tell her that H
annes Lambrechts was dead. We were obviously told on Thursday by the people at Achnacarry, but as he had no next-of-kin listed, there was no-one for us to tell. It was therefore news to her.’
‘How did she take it?’ asked Bob.
‘She was very composed at first, but I think she was deeply shocked. We sat in the kitchen with her mother while I asked her about Hannes. I asked her if he ever talked about his home or his family, and I also asked her if she had ever heard him talk about someone he was looking for. She thought there had been a tragedy of some sort in his family, though he never talked about it. And he had never said anything to her about looking for someone in Britain. After I had been there a little while, it seemed that the reality of what I had told her sank in, and she started crying and went upstairs to her room.’
‘But you said you had found something out?’ said Bob, wishing Major Leclercq would give him the summary account rather than the blow-by-blow details.
‘Yes, I did. When Anne Davies went upstairs, her mother followed her, but asked me not to leave. A little later the mother came back downstairs to say that Anne was asleep. The mother’s name is Mary Davies. She’s a homely, charming, middle-aged Welsh woman. She told me two things. First, she told me that when he died Hannes Lambrechts was going to be a father but didn’t yet know it. Then she told me about something that had happened one night earlier in the year. Apparently the 30th of May this year fell on a Saturday. So Mrs Davies told me, anyway. On that day, Anne Davies had been away visiting relatives in Swansea. Late that evening Hannes Lambrechts woke Mary Davies up, banging on the front door of the house. I understand that her husband is serving with the merchant navy, so she was alone at the time. Hannes was drunk, something Mary Davies had never seen in him before, and was obviously upset, so she took him into the kitchen and made some tea.’
‘What happened then?’ asked Bob.
‘Hannes broke down in tears, and told Mrs Davies that exactly two years previously, on the night of the 30th of May 1940, his mother had been shot dead in front of him in the bar she ran in the town of Nieuwpoort on the Belgian coast. According to him, a drunk British soldier had come into the bar and demanded that Hannes’ mother give him bottles of wine. When she refused, he shot her with his rifle. He then turned the rifle on Hannes and shot him. Hannes tried to evade the shot, and it only grazed the side of his head, but knocked him backwards and he struck his head on some furniture. I think that may have saved his life. He came to the next day. His mother’s body lay where she had fallen nearby and when Hannes went outside for help he found the town in total chaos as the allies tried desperately to hold the Germans back from Dunkirk, not far along the coast. Hannes concluded that he had to escape to Britain, partly to avoid the Germans, but mostly so he could look for the man who killed his mother.’
‘Was he able to say anything about the man?’ asked Bob.
‘Ah, the important question,’ said Leclercq. Bob wondered for a moment if the major was being sarcastic, before remembering that the conversation wasn’t being held in Leclercq’s first language. ‘He described the man as wearing British army battledress, with a sleeveless leather jerkin over the top. He was of medium height and wearing nothing on his head. He had light-coloured close-cropped hair, probably blond, and he needed a shave. Even though there was only candlelight in the bar because of a power cut, the thing he remembered most was the man’s piercing blue eyes as he pointed the rifle at Hannes and pulled the trigger. He also remembered that the man had a badly broken nose. Hannes saw no rank insignia, so thought the man was a private. He had no idea about the man’s age. Mrs Davies told me that it was as if Hannes had been reliving the moment when he told her about it. She had asked him if the man had any regimental badges that might help identify him. Hannes told her that he hadn’t seen any.’
‘So we are looking for a blond British army soldier of average height and unknown age with blue eyes and a badly broken nose, who was serving as a private in Belgium on the night of the 30th of May 1940?’ asked Bob.
‘That’s what Mrs Davies says, and she has more interest than most in helping find this man. Because of him her future grandchild will never know his or her father.’
‘Did Hannes tell Mrs Davies anything else?’ asked Bob.
‘He told her that he’d taken the uniform of a Belgian soldier to enable him to get on one of the boats at Dunkirk, and that when he arrived in Britain he joined the Free Belgium Forces. For a while he had been consumed with the desire to find the man who had killed his mother, but since meeting Anne he had started to think about the future again rather than just the past.’
‘I’m very grateful to you, Major. What you have told me will be a huge help.’
‘As I was getting up to leave, Mary Davies told me that she had never told Anne about Hannes coming to the house that night, or about what had happened to his mother. But as I left the kitchen, I found that Anne had come downstairs and was standing in the hallway outside. She had overheard everything. I promised both Anne and her mother that I would let them know if you catch the man, Group Captain, so I am asking you in turn to promise me that you will let me know.’
‘I will,’ said Bob. As he put the telephone down, Bob realised that was the third promise he had made that day to let people know how his investigation went. He hoped he wouldn’t let them down.
Bob had been alone in their small office when he made the call, and after he finished he went looking for his team. He found them in the centre’s main administration office, further along the corridor, surrounded by piles of files and other paperwork. Monique was with them. It seemed that Achnacarry’s own clerks had felt it better not to get in the way and were nowhere to be seen.
‘Hello, sir,’ said Lieutenant Dixon. ‘How did it go?’
‘I’ll tell you in a moment, but first, how much progress have you been able to make here?’
‘I think we’ve extracted pretty much all we can from the records, sir, and it’s as you expected.’ said Sergeant Potter. ‘As far as the permanent staff are concerned we’ve got a clear division between those we can place on the continent in the period leading up to Dunkirk, and those who definitely were not. We’ve also got a smaller number of those who might have been, based on the units they were in at the time. The “might have been” list is causing us real problems, sir. The British Expeditionary Force amounted to several hundred thousand men, divided into three Army Corps. Each corps comprised a huge variety of individual units. It turns out that it’s not enough to know whether a man was serving, say, with the Royal Norfolk Regiment in May 1940. We actually need to know which battalion of the regiment he was serving in.’
‘Yes, I see it’s a huge task,’ said Bob. ‘And what about the trainees?’
‘The position there is even worse, sir,’ said Sergeant Potter. ‘We have a small list of those we can show were in France or Belgium at the time, thanks to comments they have made on their application forms, or which were made by their senior officers or their interviewing officers on the forms. We also have a rather larger list of those who only joined up after Dunkirk, so could not have been there. But the biggest lists are the “might-have-beens” and the fourth list, which you called the “no bloody idea” list.’
‘Fair enough,’ said Bob, ‘thank you for working so hard on this. It may be that we can make the job easier by coming at an identification from the opposite end of the process. Incidentally, does anyone know if the medical officer has looked at the type of blood we found on the pier?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Petty Officer MacDonald. ‘It was apparently Type B blood, which was the same as Captain Bell’s. And according to the medical officer only 10% of people in this country have that blood type. Which means that the chances are fairly high that the blood we found was Captain Bell’s.’
‘Thank you, Andrew,’ said Bob. ‘It’s good to have that confirmation, on top of the cap badge. Incidentally, do we kno
w if the binoculars were Captain Bell’s?’
‘They were the same type, sir,’ said Sergeant Potter. ‘His parents gave them to him for his birthday a few years ago.’
‘Thank you.’ Bob paused and took a deep breath. ‘Right, I spoke to Major Leclercq of the Free Belgian Forces in south Wales. He had been able to talk to Hannes Lambrechts’ sweetheart and, more importantly, to her mother. Incidentally, it seems that Hannes was going to be a father but didn’t know it at the time he died. The summary version of the story is this. On the night of the 30th of May 1940, a drunk British soldier entered the bar run by Hannes’ mother in Nieuwpoort on the Belgian coast not far from Dunkirk and, when she refused to hand over the wine he was demanding, he shot her dead in front of Hannes. He then tried to kill Hannes and probably thought he had, but only rendered him unconscious.’
‘What do we know about the British soldier, sir?’ asked Lieutenant Dixon.
‘He was of average height, fair hair, probably blond, had piercing blue eyes and a badly broken nose. Hannes had said he was wearing a British army battledress with a leather jerkin over it. He was bare-headed, so there was no cap badge to see, and Hannes saw no unit insignia. He also saw no rank insignia, so assumed the soldier was a private. Accent was apparently not mentioned.’
‘Other than the nose, that is so vague as to be nearly useless,’ said Monique.
‘I accept that, but it’s all we’ve got.’
‘How do you think we ought to proceed?’ asked Lieutenant Dixon.
‘I think it’s time to try to find our killer,’ said Bob. He looked at his watch. ‘I think we have time before it gets dark. I’m going to ask Lieutenant Colonel White to assemble every trainee and every member of staff on the parade ground out there, then take roll calls to ensure everyone is present. We will then ask the officers to take the names of every man who fits the description we’ve been given. I suppose a lot depends on what Hannes meant by a “badly broken nose”, and whether the man had it treated when he got back to Britain. At worst, though, we should end up with a list we can then cross-check against the lists that you gentlemen have been producing today. I’ve also got in mind the possibility that we might put pressure on our killer and push him to reveal himself.’
