Be Not Afraid

by Christopher Nicole

“Why won’t they leave us alone?” Anna asked.

  “Don’t come out till they’re gone,” Berkeley advised. “They won’t leave us alone because we might sell a few newspapers for them. A photograph of you on their front page certainly would.”

  “We should have shot them,” Martina said

  “I hope it won’t be necessary to go that far,” Berkeley said.

  *

  But it is very difficult to get the better of the press. The Globe’s headline the next day read:

  MYSTERY OF THE RETIRED COLONEL

  There seems little doubt that the recent Northampton tragedy has far more to it than the act of a madman. This newspaper has learned that Colonel Berkeley Townsend, the bereaved husband, has in fact known Stefan and Helen Karlovy for years, and that the mysterious deaths had their roots in the Balkans before the Great War. Colonel Townsend refused to discuss the matter with your reporter, leaving him to draw his own conclusions as to the origins of this so-called “blood feud”. Is it possible that this murder had its origins in another murder?

  “And so on and so forth,” Berkeley remarked.

  “The bastard,” Martina said. “What will happen now?”

  “Not a lot,” Berkeley said. “I had intended to tell the whole truth in evidence, anyway.”

  “Won’t that upset some people?”

  “I shouldn’t think so,” Berkeley said. “It’s all pretty ancient history.”

  But apparently not everyone agreed with him. Three days later, when he and Anna were in the back yard shooting at a target, Martina came hurrying out of the conservatory door, drying her hands on her apron.

  “There’s someone to see you,” she panted. “A general. Named Shrimpton. He’s from the War Office.”

  Part Two

  The Avenger

  “Into my heart an air that kills

  From yon far country blows.”

  Alfred Edward Housman

  The Trial

  “This has been something of a fiasco,” Josef Goebbels remarked, staring across the table at his subordinate.

  “The man appears to be a devil,” Heinrich Himmler remarked anxiously.

  “Or the two Serbs were simply not up to the job. There is no substitute for training and determination. For belief.”

  “Indeed not,” Himmler agreed, wondering if he dared remind the Berlin party boss that the Karlovys had been his choice. “Does the Führer know of it?”

  “No, he does not. But he still wishes this man Townsend brought to book. He asked me, the last time I was in Munich, if we were making any progress in that direction. I told him we were.”

  “You mean you wish to try again.”

  “I mean it is necessary for the job to be completed,” Goebbels said. He stroked his chin as he looked across the bar room to where two young women had just come in. Both were extremely attractive. Himmler sighed; Goebbels’ weakness for almost anything in a skirt was well known. Himmler presumed it was a matter of compensation for the inferiority complex induced by his club foot. “Only this time,” Goebbels went on, “it must be a professional job, carried out by someone who knows his business and who is prepared to die before being taken.”

  “Do we have such a person?” Himmler began to sweat.

  “We will find one,” Goebbels said. “There is no immediate hurry, as I would like the case of the Karlovy woman out of the way, with her preferably hanged, before we strike again. However, you will remain in charge of the project. Now, Heinrich, I do not wish another failure. You may not know this, but the Führer is contemplating the creation of a personal bodyguard.”

  “But does he not have the Brownshirts?”

  “The Brownshirts are too numerous, too diffuse, and frankly, he doubts whether they are loyal to him or to Roehm.”

  “But as long as Roehm is loyal . . .”

  “Yes,” Goebbels said. “I can tell you, Heinrich, in the strictest confidence, that there are differences at the top. Chiefly between Roehm and the Führer. Roehm is a revolutionary. He would like to seize power in a gigantic bloodbath, with all those who oppose us strung up from lamp-posts.”

  Himmler gulped, and not only at the idea; he was being admitted into the secret conflicts at the heart of the party.

  “This is entirely contrary to the Führer’s approach,” Goebbels said, “which is that we should remain strictly legal and gain power through the ballot box, no matter how long it takes. These differing points of view may well create a crisis, sooner than later. At that time, it will be a matter of counting heads, and when that happens, the Führer intends to be surrounded, as I have said, by a body of absolutely loyal and determined men, who will if necessary sacrifice their lives for him. Now, he has given me the privilege of selecting a shortlist of possible commanders for this new force, and I will tell you, again in confidence, that one of the names on my list is yours. This was when I was under the impression that the elimination of Townsend was being carried out with the efficiency of which I know you are capable. I will agree that the material you used was shoddy, but a reliable commander’s first responsibility is to choose reliable subordinates.”

  Himmler opened his mouth and then closed it again, once more resisting the temptation to remind his chief that using the Karlovys had not been his idea.

  “So, as I have said,” Goebbels went on, “succeed this time, and it is possible that you may move into a high place within the party. When we take power, your future is incalculable. Fail me this time, my dear Heinrich, and I shall be forced to take your name from the list, and you will be doomed forever to, shall I say, serving in the ranks.”

  *

  “I’ll deal with it.” Berkeley gave Martina his gun and hurried into the drawing room, where Major General Shrimpton was waiting before the empty grate.

  The senior officer smiled and extended his hand. “Berkeley. How good to see you again.”

  Shrimpton was a tall, thin, alert-looking man. As General Gorman’s successor at what was now being called Military Intelligence, he had first come into Berkeley’s life a couple of years ago when he, or the government, had found it necessary to resurrect their tame assassin for one last job. That had turned out badly for the government’s plans but excellently for Berkeley himself, because it had been on that mission that he had at last found out where Anna was being held, and had thus been able to rescue her.

  He and Shrimpton had then parted, Shrimpton hinting that he might be needed again, Berkeley preferring not to consider the matter. To have the man once again standing in his drawing room, smiling that serpent’s smile, was disconcerting. But he shook hands.

  “I can’t say the same, General,” he said. “But have a seat. Drink?”

  “Perhaps a little later.” Shrimpton, who was in civilian clothes, sat down. “I gather from the newspapers that your past has been catching up with you.”

  “In a manner of speaking,” Berkeley said.

  “Oh, quite. You dealt with the matter in your usual manner. But it cost you your wife and mother, I understand.”

  “Yes,” Berkeley said.

  “So your poor children are orphaned again. Or is that charming young woman who opened the door for me—?”

  “Martina Savos is my housekeeper,” Berkeley said.

  “Oh, quite. Nothing but the best for Berkeley Townsend.”

  Berkeley did not bother to take offence.

  “Now,” Shrimpton went on, “the second assassin, the one you arrested, is to be tried.”

  “Yes,” Berkeley said.

  “And will she be convicted?”

  “It certainly looks likely.”

  “On your evidence, no doubt.”

  “And that of the people who were with me: Colonel and Mrs Savos – Colonel Savos, who has recently died, was Martina’s husband – and my daughter Anna.”

  “I see. These Savos people are the ones whose entry into this country as political refugees you supported.”

  “Colonel Savos was of inestimable help
to me while I was in the Balkans.”

  “Serving His Majesty’s Government, in your own manner. Would I be correct in assuming that Colonel Savos was aware of the true nature of your activities?”

  “I never confided in him but he was aware of most things. It was his business to be. But as I have said, he is now dead.”

  “But his wife is very much alive. Would he have confided any of his knowledge to her?”

  “I shouldn’t think he had to. She was his secretary before they left Serbia, and I imagine had access to all of his files.”

  “I see. Was she also around before the war?”

  “Good lord, no. She was only a child then.”

  “However, as you say, she undoubtedly had access to her husband’s files. You have of course both been subpoenaed?”

  “Naturally.”

  “I have been reading the file on the case,” Shrimpton remarked.

  “Have you?” Berkeley was surprised. “I wouldn’t have thought you were interested.”

  “My dear fellow, anything that affects one of my operatives, even one of my retired operatives, interests me. Now, it seems to me that the prosecution have a very open and shut case; a confession by the accused. What more do they need?”

  “There are certain aspects of the matter which still need to be brought into the open.”

  “Matters which might concern you.”

  “You could say that.”

  “Berkeley, we would not like this to happen.”

  “By we, you mean the government.”

  “At this moment, I mean the War Office. But I have no doubt at all that the government will feel the same way. Dirty linen should always be kept out of sight of the public.”

  “I have no intention of betraying any state secrets.”

  “You may have no choice, if the defence counsel is up to his job. He will almost certainly attempt to instil mitigating circumstances in the minds of the jury; it is his only possible defence. To do that he needs to probe the background to this feud.”

  “Which was a personal matter between Karlovy and myself.”

  “Perhaps. But it took place while you were working undercover for us, during a very dodgy period of our history. You may well be led into giving answers which would reveal your affiliation to us, and some of the things that you were required to do on our behalf. This would be very bad, especially at a time when Europe is moving towards permanent peace.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  “All the evidence points that way.”

  “What about friend Hitler? A couple of years ago you wanted to see the back of him.”

  “It has been determined that he is not such a threat as we once feared. Oh, that inflammatory book of his is still being widely read, we understand, at least in Germany, but he has quite failed to make any sort of impact upon the German political scene, judging by the results of the last election, and he is not expected to do any better next year. Our fear was that his violently nationalistic ideas, if supported by big business, could create a very dangerous situation. But his poor electoral support, coming on top of the death of that fellow Grippenheimer who was one of his main backers, makes him less of a threat.”

  Berkeley waited, but apparently Shrimpton had no idea it was he who had killed Grippenheimer.

  “So you see,” the general continued, “your failure to blow up Hitler may have turned out for the best. We certainly would not like it to come out that one of our people placed that bomb. Not to mention that business with the Kaiser before the war, or your involvement in the death of the Archduke Franz Ferdinand.”

  “I have been subpoenaed,” Berkeley reminded him.

  “Yes. Thus you have two choices: one is to perjure yourself, the second is to remove yourself, and your delightful housekeeper, before the trial. As I have suggested, the prosecution don’t really need you to get a conviction.”

  “Either way, Martina and I will have broken the law.”

  Shrimpton snorted. “I have never known that to bother you before.”

  “I may have broken the law in nearly every country in Europe, General, but I have never done so in Great Britain.”

  “Sometimes sacrifices of this nature are necessary. We are prepared to finance you and Mrs Savos and your daughter, if you consider it necessary to take a long holiday out of the country. Six months, I think.”

  “And my other children?”

  “I am sure we can sort something out.”

  “And when I return to England?”

  “You will probably be arrested. But as the Karlovy woman will by then have been convicted and hanged, we should be able to sort something out there, too. It will only be a minor inconvenience.”

  “Convicted and hanged,” Berkeley said. “She never actually killed anybody, you know.”

  “She was part of a team that came here to kill you, and did kill three people.”

  “Actually, they only killed two people. My mother died of natural causes,” Berkeley said.

  “Their presence in the house undoubtedly caused the heart attack that killed your mother,” Shrimpton pointed out. “Now, we naturally do not wish to know your plans. However, I have with me a draft for one thousand pounds.” He opened his briefcase and placed the piece of stiff paper on the coffee table. “Deposit that in your account and use the money to take a nice long holiday with your, ah, housekeeper, and your eldest daughter. Should you be unable to make any arrangements for your other children, ring this number,” he placed another piece of paper beside the first, “and they will be taken care of until your return. I think that covers everything.” He leaned back in his chair and gave an expansive smile. “We could have that drink, now.”

  Berkeley got up and poured two scotches, adding a splash of soda to each. “It doesn’t, actually.”

  “Oh, don’t let’s have any of your haggling. You may regard the arrangement as an assignment, only instead of going away to kill somebody, you are simply going away.”

  “To allow somebody to be killed in my absence.”

  “Well, that is perfectly true. However, as it is someone who I am sure you will be very glad to see the back of, that should be very gratifying.”

  “Sadly, it is not my idea of justice.”

  “You, a professional assassin, wish to talk about justice?”

  “I do not believe, except in the strictest self-defence, that I have ever killed anyone who did not deserve to die.”

  “It’s still a pretty long list. And this woman certainly deserves to die. I would recommend you are out of the country by the end of next week. That is, before the trial commences.”

  “I shall remain here and give evidence,” Berkeley said.

  Shrimpton’s eyebrows rose, and he put down his half-empty glass. “My dear fellow, I don’t wish to pull rank on you but I have given you an order.”

  “And I do not wish to spoil your day, General, but you seem to have forgotten that I no longer work either for you or HM Government.”

  “You cannot defy the government.”

  “Try me.”

  The two men stared at each other, then Shrimpton stood up. “If you persist in this mad course, you will be storing up a great deal of trouble for yourself.”

  “And if you persist in attempting to nobble a witness in a murder trial, General, you may discover some troubles of your own. As you have suggested, I am in possession of information which could be very damaging to the government. This information is secret, and I have no intention of divulging it to anyone, unless I have to. However, I do intend to see that Helen Karlovy gets a fair trial.”

  Shrimpton continued to gaze at him for several seconds. Then he said, “I shall leave the draft, Colonel Townsend, as I have no doubt sober reflection will lead you to accept our proposal. You of all people, Colonel, should know that those who defy the British government invariably come to an unfortunate end. Good day to you.”

  Berkeley watched him leave the room and did not move until he
heard the front door slam. Then he got up, picked up both the draft and the telephone number, and tore them into strips before dropping them into the wastepaper basket.

  He understood that he had just received sentence of death if he disobeyed the general’s instructions. If they could carry it out. If they dared try.

  “Is everything all right?” Anna stood in the doorway.

  “I think so.”

  “What did that man want? Was he really a general?”

  “Oh, indeed. And an old friend of mine. Or shall I say, he was once my employer. As for what he wanted, he had a proposition which I declined.”

  “Oh.” She looked disappointed. “Why?”

  “I suppose I’m getting too old for the sort of thing he requires.”

  She hugged him. “You can never grow old, Papa.”

  “You keep telling me that,” he said. “One day you’ll get a nasty surprise.”

  *

  But the immediate future required a good deal of serious consideration. He wondered if he should have told Shrimpton about Himmler. But, having changed his mind about the necessity of having Hitler eliminated, the general would undoubtedly have considered any differences between Berkeley and the Nazi Party to be a personal matter and would have been even more anxious that Berkeley should not be required to give evidence on oath.

  So what was he going to do about it? He could not have Berkeley arrested without risking an even greater scandal. So, assassination? Berkeley knew from his own experiences that this was something the War Office would not shrink from, and although he had never been required to kill anyone British and would not have accepted such an assignment, he had no doubt there were many people who would willingly carry out the task. But they would know that he more than anyone else would be a difficult man to kill.

  Once again he and his were under threat, and once again he did not wish to involve anyone else, especially Anna. For the hundredth time over the past eighteen months he regretted the absence of Lockwood, and for far more than just the loss of an old and dear friend. Lockwood had always been at his side, or more importantly, at his back, ready to protect him.