by John Dean
Cranmer nodded. ‘And its captain standing in the conning tower and staring at us.’
‘So, what happened to you?’ asked Colley. ‘How come you survived?’
‘There were three of us,’ said Cranmer, finding fresh strength. ‘Clinging to a piece of wood, not sure what it was, bit of a lifeboat I think.’
‘Who was with you?’ asked the sergeant, who had now taken over the questioning as Blizzard sat in silence and composed his thoughts.
‘Ronnie Illingworth and Harry Crooks. Harry was my best friend. I’d known him since we were knee high. We saw the U-Boat heading towards us. I see it every time I close my eyes. We knew they were our last moments. Schwere had already started firing on the boats. It was only a matter of time before it was our turn. That was when we made the promise.’
‘And what exactly was the promise?’ asked Blizzard, coming to his senses.
‘It was Harry’s idea. He said we had to promise that if any of us got out of there alive, we had to find the U-Boat captain and kill him.’
‘And you agreed?’
‘Yes.’ Cranmer shrugged. ‘I thought I was about to die. What difference could it make? I never meant to follow it through, didn’t even think we’d survive but Harry was insistent.’
Then what happened?’ asked Blizzard.
‘The U-Boat approached…’ Cranmer’s eyes assumed a far-off expression as he relived those moments again. ‘As it got nearer, we could see Schwere standing on the conning tower. I looked straight into his face and he looked back. But there was nothing, no emotion in his eyes. I swear to this day that he smiled. Then the guns opened up.’
Cranmer started to cry.
‘Ronnie went first,’ he sobbed, seeing again the foaming waters. ‘Gave a cry and disappeared beneath the water. Then Harry.’
‘But not you,’ said Colley.
‘I wish they had,’ said Cranmer bitterly.
He paused again to compose his thoughts.
‘I was hit twice,’ he said, so quietly they struggled to make out the words. ‘In the back and shoulder.’
Another pause.
‘I went under.’ Now the words were coming fast. ‘It’s true, you know, your life does flash before you. Then I was on the surface again and the U-Boat was heading away. All around me were bodies, floating on the surface, but there was no sign of the two lads.’
‘When were you picked up?’ asked Blizzard.
‘Five hours later.’ Cranmer’s eyes assumed a glassy expression. ‘Five hours in a dead sea, Chief Inspector. Do you know what that is like?’
‘No,’ said Blizzard with a shake of the head. ‘I have tried to imagine it many times but I can’t.’
‘You never can,’ said Cranmer. ‘Not unless you were there.’
‘And Martin Schwere?’ asked Blizzard. ‘When did you see him again?’
‘About three years later, when he was brought into Hafton POW Camp with a new name. I could not believe it. I recognised him straight away,’ recalled Cranmer. ‘First time I saw him, playing chess with one of the other prisoners.’
‘Did he recognise you?’
‘No.’ Cranmer shook his head. ‘Why should he? I was just another victim.’
‘And what about the promise?’ asked Colley. ‘Did you try to kill him?’
‘Thought about it.’ Cranmer gave them a soft smile. ‘Felt I owed it to the boys but it wasn’t something I ever meant to do. What would it achieve? When I left the camp, I thought that was that. I tried to put him out of my mind.’
‘But you couldn’t?’ said Colley.
‘He was always there,’ said Cranmer. ‘Then fifteen years ago, I saw him in Hafton High Street, coming out of a bank. Recognised him straight away. Couldn’t believe it.’
‘How come you recognised him after all those years?’ asked Colley.
‘The eyes, Sergeant. Sometimes, they looked straight through you – like you weren’t there. They did it that night in The Azores, they did it when he played chess and they did it on that day in Hafton High Street.’
‘So, what did you do?’ asked Colley.
‘I told Tommy. He already knew the story because I’d told him years before. I never thought for one moment that Tommy would react the way he did.’
‘Did Tommy know about the promise?’ asked the chief inspector.
‘I shouldn’t have told him but yes, I did. Stupid really. He had changed during his time in the Army. He saw a couple of friends killed in The Falklands and never recovered. He was very young at the time. After that, he always seemed so angry. It got worse as the years went on. That’s what did for his marriage – he hit his wife. After the third time, she took herself and the kids off and he never saw them again. And he lost a couple of jobs after fall-outs with his bosses. Punched one of them. I suddenly had this idea that it would help him make his peace with himself if he could meet Martin. See that he was a man who was simply doing his job.’
‘But you were wrong,’ said the chief inspector.
‘I didn’t think I was, at first. Tommy said he would like to meet him.’
‘So how did you find Schwere?’ asked Colley.
‘It was easy. I guessed he was over on business so I rang around a few hotels and tracked him down. Wasn’t difficult.’ Cranmer allowed himself a dry chuckle. ‘They didn’t have many Knoeflers booked in that day.’
Despite the situation, the detectives allowed themselves a smile.
‘The rest was easy,’ said Cranmer. ‘I told Martin I wanted to see him again, for old time’s sake. Didn’t let on that I knew he was the U-Boat captain, of course.’
‘Then what happened?’ asked Colley.
‘We brought him back to my house in the evening, gave him a couple of whiskies and Tommy offered to drive him to the hotel. Martin was already in the car when Tommy came back into the house and said he owed it to the men who died when the ship sunk. I was shocked, he’d been as nice as pie all night. I tried to talk him out of it, honestly I did, but he just would not listen.’
‘You could have called the police,’ said Blizzard.
‘Tommy’s my grandson, Chief Inspector.’ Cranmer gave him a crooked smile. ‘Besides, I’d made a promise, hadn’t I? And if the truth be told, I didn’t try to talk him out of it very hard; part of me wanted the bastard to die. For Harry. Does that make me an evil man, Chief Inspector?’
Blizzard made no reply.
‘So, what happened then?’ asked Colley.
‘Tommy told me they went out towards Hawkwith. Said he stopped in a country lane and hit him with the car-jack. Buried him on the farm with the other prisoners. He reckoned that even if the bodies were dug up, no one would check too carefully if there was an extra body. Everyone knew that was where the influenza victims were.’
‘They nearly didn’t check,’ murmured Blizzard, recalling the scepticism he had encountered when first arguing that something was not right at the grave. ‘And I assume Moira Savage had to die because she knew what you had done?’
‘She didn’t know anything, why should she?’ said Cranmer, surprised at the suggestion. ‘We hardly went around advertising it. No, her death was nothing to do with us.’
The detectives exchanged glances. ‘Henderson’ mouthed Colley.
‘There is one thing that still puzzles me,’ said Blizzard. ‘You say you only bumped into Martin Schwere again by accident yet our information suggests he was spooked by something years earlier, sold his house, stopped contact with his embassy, that sort of thing.’
‘I may be able to shed some light on his behaviour. You see, when he spent the evening round here, Martin said that since the death of his wife, he had decided to go home to Germany. It was time to face up to his past. He wanted to see his homeland again.’
‘Did he mention trying to buy the field where the grave is?’ asked Colley.
‘No.’ The old man looked surprised. ‘Why would he want to do that?’
‘Said it was wrong to build houses on th
e grave. He wanted to stop it happening.’
‘No, he never mentioned it, and even if he had, I don’t think it would make any difference. Tommy’s mind was made up.’
‘I guess it was,’ said Blizzard.
‘Besides,’ said Cranmer, ‘Schwere never showed any respect for the men he slaughtered that night, did he?’
‘No,’ said Blizzard, ‘no, he didn’t.’
‘Chief Inspector,’ said Cranmer, turning fearful eyes on him. ‘What will happen to Tommy?’
‘Not sure. We tried to interview him a couple of hours ago but he wouldn’t talk to us. The doctor reckons he may have suffered some form of mental breakdown.’
‘No one wins,’ said Cranmer softly.
‘You’re right, Edward. And for what? You’ll be locked up…’
‘Yes, but I will be dead in a few months,’ smiled the old man sadly and tapped his chest. ‘My doctor says it’s only a matter of time now.’
‘Maybe,’ said Blizzard.
‘Besides, do you really think they will lock up an old war hero? They’ll send me to a home, won’t they? Lots of rice pudding and dry toast and fresh bed-linen on a Thursday. Not exactly the worst place to end my days.’
‘Probably not,’ said Blizzard. ‘But Tommy will go to jail.’
‘He’ll take his punishment. Something you perhaps do not appreciate. After he was discharged from the Army, he was devastated – the sense of failure stuck with him. Then suddenly, the man who killed his grandfather’s best friend walks into the room. What else could Tommy have done? In Tommy’s eyes, after all those years, he has proved his worth to the uniform. Remember the regimental motto Stand As One? Well, that’s what he did.’
And, with a searching expression on his face, Edward Cranmer looked at the chief inspector as if in some way hoping to receive approval, forgiveness, understanding – something – for what had happened. Blizzard made no reply; somehow he could think of nothing to say.
Chapter twenty-six
‘Hear that?’ asked Gerry Hope cheerfully, reaching for the mug of tea on his desk and looking at Blizzard expectantly.
‘Hear what?’ asked the chief inspector, glancing around the scruffy office in bemusement.
‘That sizzling sound.’
‘What sizzling sound?’
‘It’s the sound of gonads being dragged out of the fire!’ Hope burst out into laughter. ‘A bit browned round the edges but OK all the same. You see, things here have been moving faster than you could ever have imagined, old son.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ murmured Blizzard. ‘We’ve not exactly been snail-mail at our end.’
It was the day after the Cranmers were arrested and the two men were sitting in Hope’s office at the ferry terminal shortly after 4.30pm, the darkness gathering once more outside the window. The rain had just started to fall, squalling in off the river and flecking insistently at the grubby window. For all it was not a particularly salubrious office, Blizzard was pleased to be there; the invitation had given him the chance to escape from Abbey Road for an hour or two and the drive across the city had given him much-needed thinking time.
Since his arrest, Tommy had said nothing, his condition steadily deteriorating as he sat in his cell, rocking forwards and backwards, refusing to eat and taking no notice of anyone who spoke to him.
Despite the initial scepticism of the custody sergeant, Blizzard was convinced that Tommy Cranmer’s breakdown was genuine. He had seen many a villain try to fake mental illness in his time, and felt instinctively that this was not one of those moments.
The strain proved too much for Edward Cranmer as well as, having been bailed into the custody of a local retirement home the night before, mentally and physically drained by his confession to the detectives, he collapsed in his room complaining of severe chest pains. With a severe angina attack diagnosed, he was now hovering between life and death in the intensive care unit of the general hospital.
Blizzard banished such thoughts from his mind and focused instead on Gerry Hope.
‘If you smile any wider, your face will split open,’ said Blizzard. ‘And, pray, whose gonads are we talking about?’
‘Both of ours, old son,’ said Hope. ‘After all, they’ve been sweating in the same onion bag on this one, haven’t they?’
‘Somehow that conjures up so many unpleasant images,’ said Blizzard with a shudder.
‘I’ll tell you what happened,’ said Hope, unable to contain himself any longer. ‘Remember I said I had a mate with the police in Hamburg? Arnie, used to be a copper here.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Well, I got a call from him an hour or so ago. It’s all hush-hush over there so I reckon your bosses won’t know what I am about to tell you.’ Hope grinned. ‘In fact, you may like to be the one who enlightens them.’
‘Enlighten them about what, though?’ said Blizzard impatiently.
‘Well, according to Arnie, Franz Hasse was nicked trying to smuggle himself back into Hamburg last night.’
‘What!’ exclaimed Blizzard excitedly, sitting forward in his chair.
‘Yeah, the local cops got lucky. A traffic officer pulled over a car because a tail light was out and guess who they found hidden under blankets in the back seat?’
‘This is all very good news but how does it help us? I mean, we’re still suspected of leaking the info about his escape, surely?’
‘Not any more, matey,’ said Hope. ‘According to Arnie, Hasse is tired of running and wants to come clean about everything. Arnie knew about our interest in him and persuaded Franz to talk to him before their heavy brigade arrived and whisked him away for questioning.
‘For a start, he got him to confirm that his mates sprung him by bribing one of the camp security guards. Wouldn’t name him but the Military Police have narrowed it down to a lad who lives near Nottingham. They are picking him up as we speak.’
‘He’ll not need to worry about gonads either once the MPs have done with him,’ murmured Blizzard.
‘Exactly, but it does mean that we’re both in the clear, me-laddo.’
‘Indeed it does,’ said Blizzard, adding with an ironic smile, ‘and I can think of so many people up at our HQ who will be so happy to hear that. Why, I imagine they’ll suggest the force has a statue erected in my likeness.’
‘Yeah, and I can guess where they’d like to shove it,’ replied Hope.
‘Indeed. Did Franz Hasse say why he was in Hafton?’
‘Yeah, we were spot on, old son. He saw the stories in the German newspapers and came over to see what happened to his brother. They’d been in constant touch over the years, apparently, but that stopped fifteen years ago, of course, and he had no idea why and had never been able to find out.’
‘Good stuff,’ said Blizzard. ‘Tell Arnie, I owe him a pint.’
‘He’s coming over here for a few days next month so you might have to deliver on that promise.’
‘Gladly.’
‘What’s more…’ Hope was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone on his desk.
He listened for a moment or two then replaced the receiver.
‘I think you owe me a pint as well,’ he said, pulling on his jacket and heading for the door. ‘Oh, by the way, do you do the Lottery?’
‘No, why?’
‘Because,’ said Hope, heading out into the corridor, followed by the chief inspector, ‘our lads have just nicked Henderson Ramage. This must be your lucky day.’
‘You don’t know the half of it,’ said Blizzard cheerfully. ‘You really don’t…’
Chapter twenty-seven
It was 8pm and Henderson Ramage glared balefully at Blizzard and Colley as he sat in the interview room at Abbey Road. A lack of cool thinking had been his downfall. Having lain low in Hafton since the incident at the ferry terminal, he had become spooked by a local radio broadcast about raids being planned for the division’s housing estates by Blizzard’s team. Everyone knew John Blizzard always came knocking eventually
and Ramage finally resolved to make a bolt for freedom in Spain, where he had criminal associates. Pushing him into breaking cover was part of the Blizzard plan – the radio broadcast was a deliberate ploy – and it worked to perfection.
Having let his hair grow long and now sporting a beard and carrying a false passport, Ramage felt confident that no one would recognise him as he made his getaway, but walking through the arrivals lounge at the ferry terminal, he was spotted by a sharp-eyed customs man, who moved so rapidly that a startled Ramage had no chance to resist arrest.
He sat and glowered at the detectives. His lawyer Edward Elsden sat next to him, a glum expression on his face. Something told him that this was the end of the line for his client.
‘The game’s up, Henderson,’ said the chief inspector.
‘You can’t prove nothing,’ said Ramage.
‘Actually, we can,’ replied Blizzard. ‘You see, since you disappeared, we have been doing some checking and, do you know, it all points to you for the murder of Moira Savage?’
‘Na, that wasn’t me,’ said Ramage but the voice lacked confidence.
‘Actually, it was you. You see, we went back and searched your house again last night, which is when we found your little hidey-hole in the roof.’
Ramage started.
‘It’s very ingenious,’ said Blizzard. ‘In fact, so ingenious they missed it first time around. Anyway, we got it this time and, guess what, we found your notebook as well. You know the one, the one with Moira Savage’s address in it.’
‘That proves nothing,’ said Edward Elsden quickly. ‘My client had her address, so what?’
‘Indeed,’ said Blizzard. ‘Hey, maybe, they were in the same knitting circle, eh?’
Ramage glowered at him.
‘Trouble is,’ said Colley, taking up the story, ‘you spelled Moira’s name wrong in it, Henderson, just like whoever sent her the death threats. At first we thought it might be Eddie Gayle – he can’t spell either – but our handwriting expert reckons it’s definitely you. We also think you were the one who threatened Elspeth Roberts because you knew she was helping Moira.’