by James Hume
Jane glanced at the bed. ‘Oh, I’ve had them for a while now. When all this carry-on broke about Tommy’s death, I had nightmares, and the company doctor gave me some sleeping tablets. But they made me feel drowsy. A neighbour told me about these tablets. She said everyone uses them over here to give them energy and help them through the day. More effective and cheaper than coffee, she said. I haven’t used them since I met Andreas.’
‘Did you know they’re illegal here?’
‘What? They can’t be, Sandra. They’re openly on sale in every pharmacy.’
‘How much did you pay for them?’
Jane thought for a moment. ‘The equivalent of five shillings.’
Jesus, Sandra thought. These tablets, sold undercover for two pounds each in the UK, were available openly over here in Germany for sixpence each? What the hell was going on? Had they got it wrong? There had to be some difference between the tablets. ‘Could I have one of your tablets, please. I just want to check something.’
‘You can have the lot. I don’t need them any more.’
Sandra put the tin in her satchel bag. ‘Thanks. Now, we’ll leave you to get washed and dressed, or go back to sleep if you want. But can I ask you not to leave the room until we give you the all clear. We’ve still to check the rest of the house.’
‘Okay. No problem.’
Sandra asked the female soldier to stand outside the room until she got the all clear, and entered bedroom four. Let’s get Wolff’s story before she saw the boss.
She went through the same procedure with Wolff, and his story confirmed Jane’s. She now believed she was being told the truth. Before she left the room, she asked the senior commando to check Wolff’s gun.
He checked it. ‘Fully loaded, ma’am.’
‘Take the bullets out and return them to Direktor Wolff when he leaves the building.’
‘Yes, ma’am. Will do.’
She went into bedroom three, and ordered the hood, gag and cuffs removed. Porritt looked up at her. ‘I should have known you’d be behind this somewhere along the line, Sandra. Very efficient team, I must say. But not easy to be on the receiving end.’
‘Sorry it’s taken so long to get to you, sir. But we’ve had a few problems. Our target was Doctor Gerhardt Timmermann, whom you knew as Doctor G. The Home Secretary had authorised us to arrest him and dismantle his drug distribution business in the UK. And we’re part of that operation. Very similar to the Aquila raids you led a few years ago.’
‘I see. And have you been successful?’
‘Well, not really. Doctor G took his own life last night.’
‘What? My God. How sad.’
‘His wife said the pain from the cancer had become unbearable, and he drank a prepared liquid to get release. We’ve confirmed it with our medics here, sir.’
Porritt pursed his lips. ‘Well, I hope last night’s dinner gave him some closure. We discussed a lot about Aquila from both sides.’ He went on to give her a summary.
‘On that subject, sir, I understand from Jane you gave Doctor G the details of Brenner’s burial. What form was it in?’
‘A typed sheet in a large white envelope.’
‘I’ll need to find it. After all, it’s one of the driving forces behind this whole exercise, and I want to make sure it’s completed. In the meantime, you’re free to get washed and dressed or go back to bed, as you wish. But I’d ask you not to leave your room until we give you the all clear. Okay?’
He smiled. ‘Of course. You know I always follow orders, Superintendent.’
She smiled back. ‘CS now, sir.’
‘Congratulations. You’ll make Commander yet.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ She left the room and found Conway and Paige in the corridor.
Paige said, ‘We found a plastic container in a cup holder in the back of the car, ma’am. Initial tests show it’s orange juice with a powerful sedative added. We can give you more details once we get it back to the lab.’
‘Excellent, Captain. Just what I need for the moment.’ That evidence confirmed Jane’s story, and verified why Porritt and Wolff were there. Good news.
She went in to bedroom one. The senior commando had a box filled with papers. She asked him, ‘Did you find a large white envelope here?’
‘We did, ma’am.’ He delved into the box and pulled the envelope out.
She opened it and read the note on how to contact Alan McGowan to recover the body of Karl Brenner, and signed by Porritt. ‘Thanks, I’ll hold on to this.’
She went out to the corridor, found her translator, and went in to bedroom six to speak to Doctor G’s wife. She was sat in a chair at the dressing table, and had calmed down.
Sandra pulled over the other chair and sat beside her. ‘May I ask you something, ma’am?’ The translator spoke in German.
The woman nodded.
‘Your husband got this note at dinner last night. It tells how to retrieve the body of Karl Brenner. Can you tell me what he planned to do with it?’
‘He asked me to give it to Cian this morning.’
Sandra thought, Cian? Where had she heard that name before? ‘Who is Cian?’
‘He’s the brother of Brendan Connolly, one of our couriers who disappeared in England. Brendan used the name, Karl Brenner, when undercover as a German. He also used the name, Tim Convery, when he was in England. Cian is his brother.’
‘And where’s Cian now?’
‘He’s upstairs with his wife at the moment. They plan to go to New Zealand, and start a new life there.’
Like hell they do, thought Sandra. She now remembered Margreet in Amsterdam had told her Cian Connolly was the real name of Pieter van der Huizen, who Sandra reckoned had killed Tommy Thomson. Wow. That would be a win among all this disappointment.
She thanked the woman, left the room and found Conway and Paige in the corridor. She said, ‘Let’s go upstairs now. I’m told there’s a couple in one of the bedrooms, and I’m very keen to talk to them.’ She turned to Paige. ‘But I’d like you to first take their fingerprints, and compare them to these sets here.’ She went into her bag and pulled out the sets of prints Margreet had given her.
‘Right, ma’am. Will do.’ He went off to find his fingerprint expert.
Sandra and Conway, with the translator, headed upstairs. Bill tagged along behind. Conway got his senior people from each bedroom to tell them who they had.
‘Room seven, ma’am. Male, with German ID in the name of Otto Fuchs. Would appear to be living here. Could be an employee of the house, ma’am.’
‘Room eight, ma’am. Female, with German ID in the name of Gudrun Eckhart. Again, would appear to be living here. Could be an employee of the house.’
‘Room nine, ma’am. Male, with German ID in the name of Marius Lemmel. As for the others, ma’am, appears to be living here, and could be an employee of the house.’
‘Room twelve, ma’am. Couple. Both with multiple IDs. Male has a British passport and ID card in the name Aidan Connor; Irish passport in the name Cian Connolly; German passport in the name Kurt Reinhard; and Dutch passports in the names, Pieter van der Huizen and Geert Rhys. The female has Dutch passports in the names of Annika Martens. Lotte van der Huizen, and Astrid Rhys. There’s no evidence they’re married, ma’am.’
Jesus, thought Sandra. Big win indeed. Paige and his fingerprint expert appeared. ‘Your couple’s in room twelve, Captain.’
She took Conway and the translator into the other bedrooms in turn. It became clear they were a butler, maid and footman in the house, and were not part of any conspiracy. Sandra asked Conway to relocate them to the clinic until she’d given the all clear.
She met Paige and the fingerprint expert in the corridor. ‘Their fingerprints match the ones you gave us a hundred percent, ma’am. There’s no doubt they’re the same people.’
‘Thank you.’ She turned to Conway. ‘Right, we’ll start with the girl. Bring her into room eleven. Let’s keep them separate from now on. And keep
the wrist cuffs on.’
Sandra and Bill went into room eleven. Conway and the senior commando brought the girl in and sat her in the chair beside the table. She wore a dressing gown over her nightclothes, and looked warily at Sandra and Bill.
Sandra pulled out the photograph of the couple at the wedding. Same girl. Pretty blonde. ‘Do you speak English?’ Sandra asked.
‘No comment.’
Oh, Christ, thought Sandra. Not one of those ‘no comment’ interviews. Well, she wouldn’t waste her time.
‘What’s your name?’
‘No comment.’
‘What are you doing here?’
‘No comment.’
That’s enough, Sandra thought. ‘We’ve identified you from your fingerprints as a Dutch national named Annika Martens, who, among other things, visited Glasgow, Scotland, between Wednesday, 28th November and Saturday, 1st December last year. I’m Chief Superintendent Maxwell of the British Police Special Branch, based in Glasgow, and I hereby arrest you as an accomplice in the murder of Thomas Thomson, on or around Friday, 30th November, 1945, contrary to common law. You have the right to remain silent, but anything you do say will be taken down and may be used in evidence. Do you understand?’
The girl blanched, and looked at Sandra in horror.
‘You’ll be taken to Glasgow later today, charged and tried in court for that offence. In the meantime, you’ll remain in this room, and will not be allowed contact with anyone until you reach Glasgow. Have you anything to say?’
The girl shook her head.
Sandra turned to Conway. ‘Right, let’s go next door and see what he has to say for himself.’ They left and entered room twelve.
The male sat on the floor, hooded and fully cuffed.
‘Take the hood and gag off, please, sergeant,’ Sandra asked the senior commando. ‘Let’s sit him on this chair.’
Sandra sat opposite him. The same man in the photos she’d got from Lincoln and from Margreet, even though he now had darker hair and a moustache. No doubt about it.
‘I’m Chief Superintendent Maxwell of the British Police Special Branch. Would you give me your name, please?’
‘No comment.’
She went through the same palaver as with the girl next door, and then arrested him for the murder of Thomas Thomson, and told him he’d be taken to Glasgow later that day.
‘You can’t do that,’ he said.
‘Oh, really? Why not?’
‘Because we’re in Germany. You don’t have powers of arrest over here.’
‘Well, that’s where you’re wrong, Mr Connolly. There is no Germany. You’re currently in British Occupied Territory, which is the same as being in Britain, and I certainly do have powers of arrest here.’
The man bit his lip, but said nothing.
‘Just before I go,’ Sandra pulled the white envelope from her bag. ‘Here’s the information you’ve searched for, and killed for. It’s the instructions on how to recover your brother’s body in Belfast. You could just have asked us for it and we would have told you. You didn’t need to kill or kidnap, or cause all this hassle.’
As she left the room, she noticed a long grey woman’s raincoat on the hook behind the door. She checked the label. ‘Klepper.’ So, this must be the Kleppermantel the girl had bought in Amsterdam. Well, well, it had all come together nicely.
She talked to Conway in the corridor. ‘Give the all clear now, Major. Box everything related to the couple, and address it to me at Glasgow Police HQ. Box everything else related to GT Pharma, and address it to Commander Burnett at Scotland Yard. Okay?’
‘Yes, ma’am. No problem.’
‘A superb job by your team, Major. Please pass on my congratulations to them all.’
‘I certainly will, ma’am. And they’ll be much appreciated. The REME boys have now started to dismantle the factory, so we should have that clear in a couple of days. I’ll give you a call when it’s complete.’
‘Good. We need a couple of female soldiers and a couple of male soldiers to escort the couple to Glasgow. How about, if you have any Glaswegians in your team, give them a quick visit to Glasgow? On me?’
He laughed. ‘Leave it with me, ma’am.’
One more thing to do, she thought. She went downstairs and found Hans Wolff. ‘We have the people upstairs who kidnapped Jane,’ she said. ‘I’ve arrested them for a murder in Glasgow, but it’s probably a fifty fifty case. Do you want to arrest them now for the kidnap, and I’ll arrange to have them escorted to you in Nuremberg, once the Glasgow case concludes, one way or the other?’
He thought for a moment. ‘Yeah, let’s do that.’
They went upstairs, and Wolff arrested the couple in their real names for the kidnap and detention of Mrs Jane Thomson on Thursday, 17th January, 1946. The girl held her head in her hands as they left.
Sandra knocked and went into Porritt’s room.
‘That’s us finished, sir. We’re headed back from RAF Güttersloh at nine.’ She updated him on the arrest of the couple upstairs.
‘Great. Well done,’ he said.
‘Hope you have a safe journey back to Nuremberg, sir.’
‘Thank you. I’m not there for much longer. Got another project.’
‘Oh? What now, sir?’
‘Well, we think the world’s had enough of military might for a while. Power will rest with those who hold secure information, so we’ll set up the UK to be one of the leaders in that field. Fingers crossed.’
She smiled at him. ‘Best of luck, sir.’
‘You too, Sandra. Great job, here. Meet again soon, I hope.’
‘I hope so too, sir.’
She left and popped in to see Jane.
‘That’s us on the way now, Jane. Hope everything works out for you in Geneva.’
‘Thank you, Sandra. We’ll maybe meet again sometime.’
Sandra went off to phone Burnett.
***
Dave Burnett paced up and down beside Alison’s desk. He had a complete picture of the raids in the UK. They’d picked up Andrew Lyall in Hampstead, and all twenty-nine named distributors as planned, though they still had three ID questions to resolve. They’d also aimed to pick up another seven people involved in the drug business, but one of them, in Glasgow, seemed to have gone on the run.
Guus Mulder had called to say the Amsterdam raid had gone well. But Dave hadn’t yet heard from Sandra, and couldn’t relax until she called. Then his phone rang.
‘Sandra,’ he barked. ‘Did everything go alright?’
‘It went fine, sir.’ She explained the loss of Doctor G to suicide before they turned up, and the arrest of the couple who had killed Tommy Thomson in Glasgow. She also told him about Jane Thomson’s kidnap, and Porritt’s visit to meet Doctor G to discuss Aquila. ‘In the end, we didn’t get the target, sir, but we’ve closed down the operation. And that’s what we wanted to do. I’m on my way back, sir, so I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Well done, Sandra. Great news. I’ll let the HS know. Safe journey.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
Chapter 15. Aftermath
Sandra Maxwell worked alongside Malcolm Craig and Bill Franklin to examine the evidence in each individual case developed by the SB Regional Heads. They met with Dave Burnett twice a week to review progress.
The Home Secretary had taken the option to use Special Courts, held in camera, and had issued sentencing guidelines to the judges. For local distributors, he recommended one to three years. With evidence of organised crime, these sentences should double to send a message. For regional distributors, he recommended four to six years.
They had resolved all the initial ID problems with the named distributors, and Sandra had decided on the other six people arrested in the initial sweep. Of these, she only had strong enough evidence in three cases, and she added them into the pack for the prosecutors.
Only Glasgow had direct organised-crime involvement, but she couldn’t prove it, because the named distributor
had no record of criminal history. Edinburgh and Leeds thought they might have organised crime involved, but had no verifiable evidence to support it. Sandra reckoned they had closed the business just in the nick of time.
The team faced delays to their proposed timetable, because lawyers for the Glasgow distributor claimed the legislation flawed and unfair, as it didn’t give legitimate businesses enough warning the law had changed before police took action. However, the House of Lords ruled the government had followed procedure, and the police had acted properly.
By the end of April, all the cases had cleared through the Special Courts, with guilty verdicts. Sam McFadden received three years. Sandra made a point of going to court that day, and became intrigued at the way McFadden looked at her. She couldn’t work out whether he admired or hated her.
However, in retrospect, she still worried about the overall strategy of the case. She’d asked Doc Roberts to analyse two tablets, one from Jane’s tin, and one from a pack she had taken from the factory as evidence. They were identical.
She concluded Andrew Lyall, who had good connections to Doctor G through his father from the Aquila days, had seized an opportunity with Michael Timmermann, to market these methamphetamine tablets, unknown in the UK, at a huge profit margin, on the basis of their ability to deliver increased sexual stamina. Unfortunately, their other effect of huge euphoria, sometimes led to deaths, and the Home Secretary, faced with a family tragedy caused by these tablets, had taken action, as only he could, to kill the business in the UK.
On the evening the last case cleared, Sandra sat with Bill in ‘their’ corner of the bar at the Charing Cross Hotel.
‘What will you do now?’ he asked.
She leaned her head back against the cushion. ‘Sleep for a week, I think.’
He smiled. ‘Me too. How would you feel about doing it together?’
She glanced at him, not sure about him coming on to her so quickly. She certainly felt very comfortable with him, and liked his friendly and relaxed style. But would that translate over into her personal life? Then she remembered the phrase he’d used at Euston Station, months ago. ‘Cards on the table?’