by Mark A Biggs
‘That would be a one way street,’ instructed Elinor. ‘And not our way.’
Grunting my displeasure, I reversed back into the road from where we had come and continued down the lane, until finally I could turn left and then another left which brought me back on to the A390.
‘Take two,’ I said. ‘But this time, as soon as I turn left past the Kings Arms, we will park.’
The second attempt to stop for breakfast was done with perfect execution. We pulled up and parked in front of a newsagents, with the coffee shop just a few metres down the road on our right.
‘My treat, everyone.’
‘I would hope so,’ replied Elinor in a jovial voice. ‘You won’t let me use my credit card or go to the bank and I have no money with me. I expect to be treated like royalty.’
‘Max will treat you like royalty!’ Olivia teased. ‘The moths flutter from his wallet when he opens it.’
‘Harsh ladies, very harsh,’ I replied in good humour.
Despite the fear that the police and whoever else was after us had by now seen the Facebook post, we enjoyed a relaxed breakfast while planning our route to Mawnan. The discussion ranged to hiring a boat and coming in by river, but the long climb up the hill put paid to that idea. We moved on to waiting for midnight and sneaking around the graveyard under the cover of darkness. In the end we settled on the frontal assault.
‘Let’s do it,’ said Olivia, getting to her feet. She moved towards the front door.
Elinor and I joined her and we made our way back to the Jaguar. Out of habit, I glanced up and down the street, but all was quiet on this slow Sunday morning. Olivia and Elinor swapped seats so now Olivia sat opposite me. I put the key in the ignition and the engine turned over but did not fire. I tried again but nothing. And then again, still nothing.
‘It’s the electrics,’ I said.
‘British motoring at its best,’ came a voice from the back seat.
I tried to start the car a few more times but to no avail; the mighty Jag was going nowhere.
‘Now what?’ Said Olivia.
‘We will need to find somewhere to stay and wait until a garage opens on Monday. It’s unlikely, I guess, that we will find a workshop open today. Alternatively we dump the Jag, steal a car and keep going.’
These were the only options I could think of.
Olivia considered my response before saying, ‘Regardless, we can’t leave the Jag out on the street. Let’s call a tow truck and have it taken to a garage. With luck the garage can repair it in the morning. If we can’t have it repaired tomorrow, then we leave it.’
We agreed on Olivia’s plan knowing that, to stay in Lostwithiel, would bring our pursuers one step closer.
While Olivia went to find a phone booth and call a tow truck, Elinor and I walked up to the Kings Arms Hotel to secure a couple of rooms for the night. Olivia was to stay with the car until the tow truck arrived and then meet us at the hotel. It took a couple of hours before the tow truck finally came and Olivia joined us.
* * *
Inspector Axel
Having been released from my bonds and spent the night at a very pleasant hotel, I was surprised to find Detective Wells waiting for me at Exeter Police Station.
‘Good morning Inspector Axel. I hope you slept well considering your ordeal.’
‘Thank you Detective, I didn’t expect to see you here on a Sunday morning.’
‘Please call me Lynda. I drove down from London early this morning. We are going to set up a temporary operations centre here.
‘After we spoke last night, three things kept going around and around in my mind. The first, there must have been something in what you told your assailant. Something he thought was important. We need to work out what it was. Second, what the hell is Janus? And finally, why give us the name Janus anyway?’
‘I agree, but I have a confession and an apology to make. There is something I haven’t told you and it is something that I shared with my assailant last night.’
Detective Wells folded her arms and I could tell that she was none too pleased that I had been keeping secrets. She said nothing but waited for me to continue.
‘My father knew Pierre Gicquel, the man who died in Lannilis shortly after being visited by Max and Olivia when they were in Europe in 2005. I believe it’s possible that my father also knew Max and Olivia and that they, most likely, worked for the same organisation during the war. This all has something to do with that time.’
‘It was 2008, Inspector, when they were in Europe but I agree with you, this has something to do with the war. I have thought so from the moment this enquiry came across my table. I remember our chats in 2008 and your theory then that the trip to Europe stemmed from clandestine missions to France during the war. Please, remind me again, who was Pierre Gicquel?’
I quickly but methodically told what I knew from my first investigation and then what I had surmised. Detective Wells sat patiently asking no questions until I had finished.
‘When you first investigated Max and Olivia, did you know then that they may have known your father?’
‘Not to start with; not until Pierre Gicquel came up during my enquiries. Even then I couldn’t prove Max and Olivia went to see him just before his death Because of my connection to Pierre, whom I met in 2005, I thought people might consider that the meeting may have clouded my analysis. I thought it best to keep quiet.’
‘If we are to work together, it’s important that we trust one another.’ She paused before continuing, ‘Do you know what Janus is?’
‘No and I promise the connection to my father is the only thing I haven’t told you.’
‘Okay, let’s agree to work together from now on. The other reason I drove down, other than so we could talk, is that I thought we might need the help of a war historian, if we are to ever understand what is going on here. I know a professor, a lady called Lacy Drew at Exeter University. She’s part of the History faculty and has written extensively on the clandestine naval operation to France. I rang her last night after speaking to you. When I mentioned the name “Janus”, she appeared to be taken aback but then agreed to meet us at the university tomorrow morning at nine.’
‘You couldn’t arrange to see her today?’
‘I tried but, unfortunately, she was away and isn’t back until late tonight. Tomorrow was the best I could do.’
I felt a little impatient at having to wait until tomorrow but tried not to show any frustration. I returned to the observations of the previous evening. ‘The other interesting thing the assailant said was that he was not responsible for the explosion at Kate’s house. I took that to mean there must be at least three groups, including us, looking for Max and Olivia.’
‘I thought about that comment too. I think he was right when he said that we don’t understand what we have got ourselves into!’
‘Oh, what I haven’t told you is that, while I was driving down, I received a call from the Yard. They had picked up a Facebook post of a sighting of Max and Olivia in Postbridge which is in the Dartmoor National Park. I imagined they would be long gone by now. I thought, seeing we can’t see the professor until tomorrow, we should take a run up there. You never know, they may have said something to someone that may be of use. I also thought we could sit and watch and see who comes and goes. You would think the post might also attract the attention of those others looking for them. You might even recognise your assailant!’
It was a pleasant drive from Exeter to the Dartmoor National Park. It did not take long and, perhaps forty-five minutes later, we were pulling into the car park of the East Dart Hotel. The hotel manager, Rosie, remembered Max and Olivia, identifying them from the photographs we showed them. Looking at a photograph of Elinor, which I had taken from her house, she confirmed that Elinor was travelling with them. We also learned that they were driving a green Jaguar. An old one, Rosie said. Using my phone and by searching the internet of images of old Jaguars, we learned that they were driving a 1960s M
ark 1 or Mark 11 Jaguar.
Before we left, I handed a business card to Rosie, and asked her to ring if anyone else came asking questions about Max and Olivia.
Back at Exeter and before calling it a day, Detective Wells put an APB for stations in the Devon and Cornwall areas to be on the lookout for Max, Olivia, Elinor and the green 1960s Jaguar. The alert also advised officers not to use the police radio if they had a potential sighting as she feared the police frequencies might be scanned for information.
My first impression of Professor Lacy Drew’s office was that it was cluttered with books and papers. Some were in piles, where there was semblance of order, but mostly they were scattered, apparently at random, to all corners of the room. Next to the desk, her feet swam in a sea of paper to which she appeared oblivious.
‘Detective Wells, nice to see you again,’ said Professor Drew in a tone which hid all emotions.
I wasn’t sure if we were welcome guests or an annoyance.
‘Professor, this is my colleague Inspector Axel of Interpol.’
I extended my hand to which Professor Drew reciprocated.
‘Sit down. How may I help you?’
We stepped over the books and made ourselves comfortable in the only other chairs in the room which were in front of a table.
‘As I mentioned on the phone,’ started Inspector Wells, ‘we would like your help. We are hoping you may be able to tell us what someone may have learned from the conversation Inspector Axel had with his assailant. If you can, we are hoping that you may assist us in locating the two people we are seeking.’
The professor nodded. ‘Go ahead.’
‘I mentioned the word “Janus” on the phone to you. We are wondering if you know who or what it is?’
Looking at me the professor said, ‘Perhaps you can go over again what it is you said to your assailant. Detective Wells did tell me, but it is best if I can hear it from you.’
I took a breath and relayed the events of Saturday night and my conversation as well as my recollection would allow. As I spoke Professor Drew jotted notes on scraps of paper which she placed, in no apparent order, on her desk.
When I finished, the professor made noises as though she was speaking to herself, putting forward ideas and then dismissing them. After several repetitions of, No it won’t be that, she said, ‘Yes, I think I know where they are going!
‘If what you said is true and Max and Olivia worked with Pierre Gicquel, most likely they are going to either the River Helford or Falmouth. Most of the clandestine sea operations to Brittany during the war were mounted from these two places.’
‘Why?’ I said aloud without thinking.
‘Inspector, I just told you what the facts say. Why is up to you,’ she said in a most dismissive tone.
Detective Wells drummed her fingers on the table before saying, ‘And Janus?’
There was a pause after Detective Wells question – before Professor Drew started her explanation in a monotone voice. ‘I had given up my search for Janus long ago. Of those who have heard of the Janus Project, most believe it never existed. To tell you the truth, over my lifetime of work, researching this period, I have never found a single document that mentions Janus. A lot of what I am about to tell you is true, but whether Janus played a part in it or not I cannot say. Whether the reality of Janus is true or not, I cannot say.
‘No war before had such a profound effect on the advancements of science. You can point to any number of inventions and advancements that emerged during the war, particularly from the Nazis. The jet engine, v rockets, ballistic missiles and even computers came from that time. The war also saw incredible advancements in medicine—the mass production of penicillin and blood transfusions, for example. But much of the science drive was to develop weapons of mass destruction and concentration camp prisoners made ideal guinea pigs.
‘In 1942, intelligence from the Polish Resistance movement reported that the Nazis were conducting human experiments at a concentration camp called Majdanek. Majdanek, unlike other concentration camps, was not located in a remote rural location away from population centres, but had been established on the outskirts of the city of Lublin during the German occupation of Poland in 1941. Its location meant that the intelligence from Majdanek was considered reliable. Majdanek was killing people on an industrial scale, but reports also talked of a new super biological weapon being developed by a man called Dr Von Erick Brack. He came to Majdanek from the Nazis’ bio-weapons facility on Riems Island. The new weapon was alleged to be a convergence of chemistry, biology and genetic science.
‘Towards the end of the war, with the Red Army advancing from the east, it is alleged that UK intelligence became determined to stop the weapon from falling into Stalin’s hands. Stalin had a reputation as a brutal butcher with little or no moral conscience. Churchill and other allied commanders feared that, once the conflict with Germany was won, the war with Russia would begin, a far bloodier war, fuelled by the new and developing technologies captured from the Germans; jet fighters, missiles, chemical and biological weapons etc.’
With my interest in WW2 history, in part because of my father, I sat spellbound despite the dry style in which she relayed the information. I found myself distracted for a moment, pitying her students sitting through one of her history lectures. The pity was not because she was boring, but because, in all likelihood, they would fall asleep and miss the wealth of knowledge and wisdom this woman held. I drew my focus back to her words.
‘Working with the Polish Resistance movement, a number of covert operations were planned to penetrate the camp, kill Dr Von Erick Brack and either retrieve or destroy the weapon, but none was successfully carried out. So concerning was the intelligence coming out of Lublin that Operation Pluto—a plan to bomb the camp, to obliterate, everything and everybody—was considered but dismissed. Not on humanitarian grounds, but because, militarily, it was unlikely to succeed.
‘As the Red Army advanced, eastern concentration camps were evacuated. Majdanek became the first concentration camp discovered by allied forces because it was captured nearly intact. The Nazis had succeeded in partially destroying the incriminating evidence but infrastructure remained mainly intact along with administrative records of war crimes. That is, with the exception of the biological weapons facility. Intelligence concluded the program, Dr Von Erick Brack, and his research had moved to another concentration camp; one called Bergen-Belsen.
‘In mid-April 1945, the 11th Armoured Division of the British Forces liberated the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp, south-west of the town Bergen near Celle. They discovered some sixty-thousand prisoners and thirteen-thousand corpses. History recalls how the overcrowding of the camp led to a vast increase in deaths from typhus, typhoid fever, tuberculosis and other diseases. The conspiracy theorists believe this is only partially true. They believe the Nazis, through their Majdanek program, had weaponised these and other diseases and had discovered how to make and attach diseases and viruses to individual immune cells through the use of a special plant’s DNA. The plant itself, it is said, had no immune system. The discovery had the potential for great good but also for unparalleled evil, worse than the atomic bomb. Whereas the atomic bomb kills indiscriminately, this weapon could be tailored for specific people, races, or even hair colour; whatever you wanted. If used for good, the technology would allow the targeted treatment of almost any illness. It could have revolutionised medicine as we know it. Even more importantly for arms, it could potentially render all biological weapons useless.
‘The story goes that Dr Von Erick Brack had encrypted the secrets of the weapon into a machine, codenamed “Janus”, for which he made two identical keys, the “Janus Keys”. How can I explain this? The machine is a little like an early pocket computer, or perhaps more like a variation on the Enigma Machine, the German cipher machine from the war. The Janus Key was a three-dimensional rotor, which looked more like an ancient artefact from Raiders of the Lost Ark than a key. When inserted int
o the machine, the Janus Key enabled the decoding of endless combinations of chemical symbols and genetic codes. What is said of Janus is that it tells how to create and target bacteria and viruses. Neither the machine nor the Janus Key is of any use without the other bit.
‘As best as I have determined from the stories, with the Red Army only a few days away from Majdanek, Dr Von Erick Brack was instructed to blow up the bio-warfare research facility at the camp. He left one of the Janus Keys behind to be destroyed by the explosion and took the Janus Machine and the other Key with him to Bergen-Belsen.
‘Operatives within the Polish Resistance entered the evacuated camp in search of the machine just hours before the Red Army and found in the rubble the Janus Key. It was still intact and they believed it was still working. It is said that the Soviets also knew of the bio-weapons program, the Janus Project, at the camp. Some believed they had an informer inside the Resistance. What allegedly ensued was an epic cat-and-mouse struggle between the GUGB, the predecessor of the KGB, and Polish operatives as the Janus Key was smuggled 2,600 km from Lublin to Murmansk. Six operatives, it is said, were dead by the time the key reached Murmansk where it then journeyed to the UK on a return Russian convoy. It was delivered into the hands of a secret agency the name for which I have not discovered. I will just call it the Agency.
‘Dr Von Erick Brack destroyed the second Janus Key shortly before Bergen-Belsen was liberated and, thinking the Janus Machine now useless and both keys destroyed, he fled, leaving the machine behind. In possession of the first Janus Key and with the discovery of the machine at Bergen-Belsen, the Agency, as you could imagine, was in a dilemma; should they keep or destroy the weapon? The Agency decided it was not time for the world to have such knowledge. Rather than destroying either the Key or Janus they were hidden separately, just before the end of hostilities in Europe. Nothing of this story was committed to paper and the hiding places were entrusted in parts to a few people who are either now very old or dead. Or so the story goes.