by Iain Colvin
‘It looks like for one reason or another, we’re both fugitives.’
‘I suppose we are,’ replied Craig.
He decided to take Brian into his confidence, at least for now. ‘I’ve got more news to tell you, Brian. My wallet had a second letter hidden in it. And that letter led me to a larger document. I’ve got a copy of the peace offer Hess brought with him.’
‘What?’
‘The actual peace offer. There was one after all. It was in Glasgow the whole time, would you believe. In the Swedish Consulate.’
Brian Irving processed this information.
‘That makes perfect sense. Hess could have arranged to send it to a convenient pick-up point in Glasgow some time in advance of the flight. The same way Messerschmitt sent fresh drop tanks to Dungavel in preparation for Hess’s return flight. Through neutral Sweden.’
‘They did?’
‘Oh yes. You’ve no idea what my research has uncovered, I’m looking forward to telling you all about it. But I’m interested in this Commander Anson, who was he?’
‘An old student of Professor Prior, apparently. He said he was in the Home Office, but I think he was MI5 or MI6.’
‘And you showed him the peace offer?’
‘Yes.’
‘Pity. I’m assuming he made you hand it over before he let you leave?’
‘Yes, well sort of. I made a switch, and they ended up with a bogus set of papers. Which is another reason why I’m not giving myself up just yet. I still have the peace offer with me.’
‘You have? That’s great news. So you must have had your suspicions about this Anson?’
‘Yes, I did. And wait till you hear this. Clive Prior was part of Hess’s original debriefing team, back in 1941. He and this other guy, Commander Anson, went out of their way to sell the story that Hess came over as the result of an intelligence sting. They talked about a letter that Albrecht Haushofer wrote to the Duke of Hamilton.’
‘Yes, that’s what started the process off back then,’ confirmed Brian.
‘They said that the letter was intercepted and British Intelligence used it to convince Hess to make the flight.’
‘But you didn’t buy that?’ asked Brian.
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Well, just as you and I discussed before, they hardly made capital out of Hess’s capture.’
‘And how did Professor Prior explain that away?’
‘Well it was Anson actually. He said that British Intelligence kept the illusion going that they were considering peace to give Hitler the confidence to attack Russia.’
‘You don’t believe that?’ asked Brian.
‘No. It was too contrived,’ said Craig. ‘If Britain wanted the Soviet Union in the war, when Hess arrived all they had to do was spill the beans to Stalin. That would have been the easiest thing to do, surely? Why risk waiting for Hitler’s plan to take effect?’
‘I completely agree with you. When you look at the night Hess arrived, if British Intelligence were expecting him, they weren’t sufficiently organised to pull rank on the local Home Guard and take their prisoner away from them. No, I’m sure the story of an intelligence sting was dreamt up after the event to cover their blushes. Hess had arrived under their noses and they were embarrassed. But arrive he did, and I’m convinced that it was arranged in advance – not by British Intelligence but by people who wanted to take Britain out of the war. I’ve found out that there was a peace group in Britain, and it included some senior people.’
Craig couldn’t hide his excitement. Maybe he’d let his paranoia get the better of him earlier, maybe in fact Brian was on his side after all. It looked like the university man had come up with some outstanding findings.
‘Brian, that’s great work. There’s so much that we need to catch up on, and I want you to see the peace offer, it’s an incredible document to read. We also need to discuss what to do next. Do you want to meet me in Edinburgh?’
‘Is there a chance you could come here?’
‘It’s a bit tricky to say the least, you’ve seen the newspapers.’
‘I realise that, but I’ve got things to show you here. It’s important or I wouldn’t ask. Without wanting to scare you, the fact that you switched papers on MI6 won’t have pleased them one bit. The sooner we can decide what to do the better, and to do that you need to know what I know.’
‘Okay I’ll try. Let me see what I can sort out and I’ll ring you back. Will you be there for an hour or so?’
‘Yes, I can stay here.’
‘Good, I’ll ring back as soon as I can.’
Craig hung up and thanked Denis and Valerie for the use of their phone. He quickly briefed them all on his discussion.
‘This puts you back to square one as far as the police is concerned, does it not?’ asked Denis.
Craig ran his hand through his hair. ‘I suppose so.’ He looked up at Fiona’s dad. ‘It comes down to knowing who I can trust, and apart from you guys and Lynn, I seem to be drawing a blank on that score right now.’
‘What about Brian?’ asked Fiona.
‘I want to trust Brian,’ said Craig. ‘I really do. But I just don’t know. The jury’s still out. Why’s he so keen for me to go to Thurso? And why didn’t he track me down sooner? He knew my grandad’s name was Davy McLean, he could have searched through the register of births, marriages and deaths.’
‘Did he know your mum’s name?’ asked Denis.
‘No, I don’t think I mentioned it.’
‘Then he would have had to work through all the David McLeans who got married and had a daughter.’
‘But my grandad died in January this year, if he’d started with the most recent and worked back, it wouldn’t have taken him long.’
‘Did you tell Brian when your grandad died?’
Craig knitted his brow. ‘I can’t remember. Maybe not.’
‘There you go then, for all he knew your grandad could have died back in the sixties or something. I don’t know what your definition of a needle in a haystack is but I think that would be close.’
‘I suppose so.’
Craig decided to let it drop. He asked if it was okay to use the phone again because he’d like to call Lynn. Valerie told him to go ahead and gave him the number. It was Nicolas who answered. Craig introduced himself, and Nicolas went to fetch Lynn. She sounded tired. Craig told her about his conversation with Brian and asked if she was up for a trip to Thurso.
‘I’m really sorry, Craig, I tried ringing a bit earlier but the phone was engaged. Much as I’d like to, I can’t. My boss is insisting that he speaks to me on Monday about Edward Hart-Davis’s book and I haven’t even had the time to read it yet. So I’ve got a ton of work to do this weekend. I’m so sorry.’
‘Is everything okay?’
Lynn sighed, then lowered her voice. ‘Well, the other thing is, when I told Nicolas about our brush with our friend Commander Anson, he went into one of his French tantrums. Oh it’s fine, he’s just being overprotective, and I’m a big girl at the end of the day. But I need to pass on this one. Do give me a ring when you meet with Brian though, I insist.’
‘No problem, I will do. Listen, it’s okay, I’ll sort something out. You’ve done so much already Lynn, I can’t thank you enough. You have a good weekend and I’ll be in touch soon.’
Craig put the phone down. Fiona asked him what was wrong and Craig told her.
‘You can’t risk the train again,’ she said.
‘Yep, I was thinking the same thing.’ He was about to pick up the phone to call Brian Irving back and insist that he make the journey south, when it rang, surprising him. Fiona stretched across him to answer it.
‘Hello?’
‘Hi, Fiona? It’s Lynn here. I’ve got a suggestion for Craig, can I have a word with him?’
‘Sure, Lynn, he’s here, hold on.’ She handed the receiver to Craig.
‘Hi Lynn.’
‘Hi Craig, listen, I won’t be g
oing anywhere this weekend and I’m sure you won’t fancy using the train.’
‘Yeah, Fiona’s just said that.’
‘You can use the hire car if you want.’
‘That would be great. Are you sure though?’
‘Of course. Come round when you’re ready and you can pick it up.’ Lynn rang off.
Craig went to get his stuff together with the intention of setting off for Thurso as soon as he picked up the keys of the Cavalier. He was collecting his jacket in the hall when Fiona came out of the kitchen. She picked up a set of car keys from the table next to the front door.
‘Mum!’ she called through to the kitchen. ‘Is it okay if I borrow the car?’
‘Help yourself,’ came the answer from the kitchen. ‘But don’t be all day.’
‘Thanks mum.’ Fiona opened the door and held it for Craig. ‘Come on, I’ll run you to Lynn’s.’
Two minutes later Fiona was at the wheel of her mum’s silver Mini Metro, guiding it out of the driveway. Craig adjusted the passenger seat, pushing it as far back as he could to accommodate his six-foot frame.
Craig seemed lost in his own thoughts as they made their way through town towards Lynn’s house in Trinity. They drove in silence. The Saturday morning traffic was heavy going into the city centre but once they cleared Princes Street and drove down the steep hill of Dundas Street, their stop-start progress improved and they got through the lights at Goldenacre first time. Fiona slowed as she looked for a parking space that wasn’t too far from Lynn’s house. As they passed a row of parked cars, something in Craig’s peripheral vision caught his attention. As he turned his head to look, a man sitting in one of the parked cars turned his head towards Craig. Blake. He and Craig stared at each other for the full second and a half it took for the Metro to move past the parked Fiat.
‘Drive!’ shouted Craig.
The sudden shock made Fiona stand on the brake pedal. Craig’s forehead nearly hit the windscreen as the wheels locked and the small hatchback rocked forward on its suspension. With no clutch engaged, the engine died. The dashboard lit up with red and orange warning indicators. Craig didn’t have time to explain what happened. ‘Move over!’. He opened the door and jumped out of the passenger seat just as the door of Blake’s Fiat opened ten yards behind them. Craig half ran and half vaulted around the bonnet of the Metro and flung the driver’s door open. ‘Move over!’ he screamed again.
Fiona snapped out of her momentary paralysis, undid her seat belt and slid sideways to her left. Craig got behind the wheel, stepped on the clutch, put the gear stick in first, turned the ignition and pumped the accelerator pedal just as the passenger door opened and Blake reached in to seize Fiona’s left arm. Fiona screamed and beat at the intruder’s grip with her free hand. The Metro’s engine roared into life. Craig released the clutch and grabbed Fiona’s right arm to prevent her from being dragged out of the car. The lurch in momentum caused both doors to swing shut. More accurately, Craig’s door swung shut, but because it was blocked, Fiona’s door bounced off Blake’s shoulder. Blake kept pace alongside the car as it began to move. The upper half of Fiona’s body was half in and half out of the car, and the only reason she wasn’t lying on the road was because Craig was holding on to her. The car’s small one litre engine screamed as the revs went into the red. Craig couldn’t let go of Fiona’s arm to change gear, and as a result the car couldn’t pick up speed. An acrid smell from the engine compartment filled his nostrils. In desperation he pressed the clutch down, took his right hand off the steering wheel and stretched it across to move the gear lever into second. The combination of a free steering wheel and the dragging effect of Blake’s grip meant that the Metro veered to the left as the higher gear kicked in and the car speeded up. Blake’s hip came into sharp contact with an offside wing mirror belonging to a parked Datsun Sunny. With a pained grunt he finally had to let go of Fiona’s arm. The Metro bounced off another parked car before Craig regained control of the steering wheel. He changed into third gear and pressed the accelerator to the floor. The Metro sped off and reached a T junction at the end of the road. Craig turned right, straightening the wheel as he moved back up through the gears. He turned right again and headed towards the city centre.
Blake hauled himself to his feet and checked to see if the pain in his hip and arm was serious or not. He thought he’d have bruises in the morning but nothing more. A woman who had been walking her dog on the other side of the street was rooted to the pavement having witnessed the scene unfold in front of her. She stared at Blake in utter disbelief that such a disturbance could happen in her neighbourhood. Her dog was straining at its lead, barking furiously.
‘What are you looking at?’ growled Blake.
If the woman was scared at witnessing the incident in the first place, she was petrified at being addressed directly. She tugged at her dog, about turned and sped back the way she had come.
Blake ran back to his car and gunned it into life.
Craig felt for the handle under his seat and slid it back to give his legs more room. He looked across at Fiona. Her cheeks were wet with tears but Craig couldn’t tell if they were from fear or anger.
‘Are you hurt?’
Fiona shook her head.
‘Are you okay?’
She looked across at him. ‘I don’t know. I think so.’ She rubbed her arm, as if checking that there was no residual trace of Blake on her sweater. ‘Who was that? Why did he attack me?’
‘That was that policeman, Wilson. He must have tracked Lynn to her home, but how the hell did he know we were coming?’
‘Fucking hell Craig, what are we going to do now?’
Craig shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’ He checked the rearview mirror. No sign of the Fiat. They came to another T junction and Craig had to stop to let a stream of cars go past. Being one of the main arteries in the north of Edinburgh, it was busy and although Craig inched out, there was no gap in the traffic for him to take advantage of. Suddenly, their necks whiplashed as a loud metallic bang propelled them forward. Craig looked in the mirror and saw Blake’s face staring back at him from behind the wheel of the black Fiat. The collision shunted the Metro into the flow of eastbound traffic. Horns blared as cars had to perform emergency stops. Craig put his foot down and shot across the road, turning right and narrowly missing a Sherpa van whose driver mouthed a stream of obscenities through the windscreen.
Craig had no choice but to keep pace with the interminably slow-moving flow of traffic until he reached the first left-hand junction they came to. He hoped it wasn’t a cul-de-sac, and was relieved when the narrow street forked right and then joined another road. A rhythmic banging from behind him told Craig that the collision with Blake’s car had done some damage to the Metro’s rear end.
‘Craig, we have to get out of here!’ shouted Fiona.
‘I know!’
‘This road takes us all the way into town.’
Craig knew he couldn’t lose the Fiat in a straight line race, especially with the back end hanging off his car. After another hundred yards Craig turned left along a road with a rugby ground on one side and a row of semi-detached houses on the other. Another road on the right took them further into the housing estate, then a left, then a right until Craig finally came to a dead end. He pulled into the driveway of the end house, braked and switched off the engine. The house’s small garden was ringed by a box hedge at head height which blocked the view of anyone not directly opposite.
Craig and Fiona held their breath for a long minute, listening.
Chapter 36
Blake cursed. He saw the Metro join the traffic on Ferry Road and edged his Fiat out, holding up traffic as he forced his way on to the westbound carriageway. A double decker bus flashed him and he screeched in front of it. The Metro was now four cars in front and Blake saw it turn left to avoid the traffic lights at Goldenacre. As the small car turned he saw that the rear number plate was hanging at a strange angle and the exhaust pipe was banging off
the ground. Good, he won’t get far with that, thought Blake.
Blake took the same turn and found himself on a long straight road. He could see several hundred yards ahead, but the Metro was nowhere to be seen. Blake drove past the rugby ground and past an entrance for some botanic gardens. He took the next right and followed the road to the end, took a few turnings, past a private school set back from the road in its own grounds and eventually found himself in a busy shopping street. He pulled over and consulted his Edinburgh street map.
‘Where have you gone, Mr Dunlop,’ he muttered as his finger traced the route from Trinity.
Craig and Fiona hadn’t moved from their seats in the two minutes since they’d pulled up. The front door of the house opened and a man in his early forties came out to find out why a strange car was parked in his driveway. He was dressed in track suit bottoms and a loose-fitting sweatshirt. Craig got out of the car and walked towards him, aware that the other man looked like someone who was about to shout the odds at this invasion of his privacy.
‘Hi, I’m sorry about this, we took a wrong turn and we were only going to use your driveway to help turn round. But I seem to have a problem with my exhaust.’
‘Well you need to move, I’m just about to leave for the football and you’re blocking my drive.’
Fiona got out of the car and the man stopped in mid-rant. Craig wasn’t sure if it was because the man took an instant shine to her or because quite frankly Fiona looked a mess. Her eye makeup was smudged with tears and her hair was all over the place.
‘Are you okay?’ The man stared at Craig suspiciously. Craig wondered if the man thought he might be related to the Yorkshire Ripper or something.
Fiona used a finger to try to minimise the mascara damage under her eyes, and broke into a smile.
‘Hi. Not really, my brother’s driving us up to the hospital, our mum’s been taken ill. We were looking for a shortcut and got a bit lost, then we heard a clunking sound from the car.’