by Iain Colvin
The words stung Craig. That was the question, wasn’t it, he thought. Was it worth it? Was any of it worth it?
In the end all he could think of to say was, ‘I had to get out of the hotel room to get help.’
‘So the document wasn’t a peace offer?’
‘What peace offer?’
Bruce Cowie looked sceptically at him. ‘We’ll talk again later, Craig.’
And there it was. Craig was still protecting the document. Despite everything that had happened. Or maybe because of everything that had happened. He thought about Claire and he thought about the policeman who died and he thought about Fiona and his eyes filled with tears.
Craig heard the door open and close as the policemen went out.
A few minutes later the door opened again and Bruce Cowie came back in, accompanied by another man Craig didn’t recognise. The man opened a briefcase and pulled out a form.
‘Mr Dunlop? I’m from the Home Office. Paterson’s the name. I’m afraid I need you to sign a copy of this. DI Cowie will witness your signature.’
‘What is it?’ asked Craig.
‘It’s the Official Secrets Act.’
Craig started laughing and winced in pain.
‘What’s funny, Mr Dunlop?’
‘Nothing.’
Craig thought about refusing to sign but realised it was pointless.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said.
Chapter 46
Friday 3rd June, 1983
Craig walked into his local. He hadn’t been in the Ruddicot for months and he had to admit it felt good to be back. It felt like home, partly because it actually resembled someone’s living room. The small bar occupied one corner and the handful of tables were arranged around the padded bench seating that ran around three walls. The whole bar when full could seat no more than twenty-five people.
Kenny and the gang were already there and the pub erupted in cheers when Craig walked in.
‘Yeah, yeah, very funny, you lot,’ said Craig, laughing. His left arm was still in a sling to support the muscles around his shoulder and he had an intensive course of physiotherapy to look forward to. This was the first week that he’d gone without painkillers since Blake shot him, and to celebrate he had asked Kenny if he fancied a quick drink on Friday night. Kenny had rounded up the troops by the look of things.
‘It’s good to see you all, thanks for coming out,’ said Craig.
‘Don’t flatter yourself,’ said one of his football mates, Jim. ‘We’ve only come out to see Fiona. Where is she?’
‘She’s on holiday with her parents,’ said Craig. He couldn’t bring himself to say that she’d been avoiding him these past weeks. They’d only spoken a handful of times on the phone. Her mum suggested that he give her the space and time to get over the ordeal. He had no choice but to go along with Valerie’s wishes despite the fact that he ached to see her.
‘You mean she passed on the chance of a city break in sunny Stranraer?’ said Jim.
‘Come on, you might only have one arm but you can still get a round in,’ said Kenny.
‘It’s alright for all of you,’ said Craig, ‘I’m the only one here who doesn’t have a job.’ The cheers and boos resounded in equal measure. Everyone laughed, and Craig knew he was going to be ripped mercilessly by his friends all night. Which is exactly what he would have wished for. It was good to relax in the company of old friends again, and to know that they hadn’t changed towards him.
It was a good night. Craig moved on to soft drinks after a couple of pints. Three months of being on the wagon had turned him into a lightweight drinker but that was no bad thing, he thought.
Everyone asked him to relate the story of what happened during that week in March, but he had to apologise sincerely and say that he wasn’t allowed to say anything. He said it was because the murder case was pending and as a key witness he was sub judice. It made life so much easier for him to use that as an excuse rather than admitting the real reason – that he had signed the Official Secrets Act.
He told them how he’d visited the bank, where he’d politely listened to Mr Grant telling him how proud they all were of him; and that he’d been to see Claire’s parents. Helen went with him, and although it was a difficult couple of hours Craig felt better for doing it and he got the feeling that they appreciated him making the effort.
‘What do you plan to do now you’ve nearly recovered?’ asked Kenny’s girlfriend, Susie.
‘Well, in the next few weeks I’m going back up to Thurso for a visit. I’m going to see if I can convince Fi to come too, but after what happened I tend to think it’ll be the last place she’ll want to return to. Anyway, we owe a very nice bank teller a good night out.’ He hoped that he’d be able to persuade Fiona to go, despite everything. He’d remind her that they promised each other a return to the Highlands after everything had calmed down. But deep down he knew she wouldn’t go. Craig consoled himself with the prospect of returning to pick up the package he’d left at the hotel back in March. When he finally got out of hospital, one of the first things he did was phone the Station Hotel. The manager checked and was able to assure him that his package was still there. Did he want them to forward it? Craig said no thanks, he’d pick it up in person.
‘I hear you’ve got some big news too?’ asked Susie.
‘Big news?’ Craig frowned for a moment before the penny dropped. ‘Oh yes, I’m going to university in the autumn.’
‘Really? That’s great news.’ She gave Craig a hug. ‘Which uni is it?’
‘Edinburgh.’
‘Oh, that’s brilliant, Craig. What are you going to study?’
Craig took a sip from his drink and put the glass down on the table again.
‘European history,’ he replied.
THE END
Epilogue
Monday 17th August, 1987
The British military authorities in Berlin announced that Prisoner Number Seven, Rudolf Hess, was dead. He had been found in a small hut in the grounds of Spandau prison with an electric cord round his neck. The post mortem examination concluded that he had hanged himself.
Within six weeks of his death, Spandau Prison was razed to the ground.
The exact circumstances surrounding the death of Prisoner Number Seven remain a mystery.
Source Reference Material
I would not have been able to construct this narrative without the help of several rich sources of reference material. If this story has whetted your appetite to find out more about the mystery of Rudolf Hess’s ill-fated flight to Scotland, I would encourage you to seek out the following publications:
Allen, Peter; The Crown and the Swastika: Hitler, Hess and the Duke of Windsor. Robert Hale, London, 1983.
Anonymous; The Inside Story of the Hess Flight. The American Mercury, May 1943.
Bethune, George; 1942 The Duke of Kent’s Crash – A Reconstruction. Dunbeath Preservation Trust, 2006.
Bird, Eugene; The Loneliest Man in the World: Rudolf Hess in Spandau. Sphere, London, 1976.
Douglas-Hamilton, James; The Truth About Rudolf Hess. Mainstream, Edinburgh, 1993.
Harris, John & Trow, M.J.; Hess: the British Conspiracy. André Deutsch, London, 1999.
Hastings, Max; All Hell Let Loose: The World At War 1939–1945. Harper Press, London, 2011.
Hayward, James; Myths & Legends of the Second World War. The History Press, London, 2003.
Higham, Charles; The Secret Life of the Duchess of Windsor. McGraw-Hill, New York, 1988.
Hitler Adolf; Mein Kampf. Hurst & Blackett, London, 1939.
Irving, David; Hitler’s War. Focal Point, London, 2002.
Levenda, Peter; Unholy Alliance: A History of Nazi Involvement with the Occult. Continuum, New York, 1995.
Marr, Andrew; The Making of Modern Britain. Macmillan, London, 2009.
Moorhouse, Roger; Berlin at War. The Bodley Head, London, 2010.
Nesbit, Roy Conyers & van Acker, Georges; The Flight of Rudolf Hess
: Myths and Reality. The History Press, London, 2011.
Picknett, Lynn, Prince, Clive and Prior, Stephen; Double Standards: The Rudolf Hess Cover-up. Time Warner, London, 2001.
Pile, Jonathan; Churchill’s Secret Enemy. Amazon
Read, Anthony; The Devil’s Disciples: The Lives and Times of Hitler’s Inner Circle. Pimlico, London, 2004.
The author at Eagle’s Rock, Caithness.
Copyright
Published by Clink Street Publishing 2019
Copyright © 2019
First edition.
The author asserts the moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior consent of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that with which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
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978–1–913136–24–6 paperback
978–1–913136–25–3 Ebook