by Graham Ison
‘Yes, I bloody well am, Charlie. It’s a damned disgrace. That man is useless. And I suppose you’re going to upset me even more.’
‘That’s for you to decide, Ernie, but that young DI from Special Branch, Drew, handed me two sets of dabs that the Branch had taken. One set was Mavis Parker’s and the other belongs to Lawrence Mortimer that they took when he was nicked for spying. They both correspond with prints on the letter that you found in Parker’s piano.’
‘Well, I’ll be buggered!’ exclaimed Hardcastle. ‘That means that it was probably Mortimer who murdered Parker.’
‘Or Mrs Parker conspired with Mortimer to get rid of her husband,’ observed Collins drily. ‘Perhaps it’s the old eternal triangle after all, Ernie.’
After Collins had left Hardcastle with that suggestion hanging in the air, the DDI spent some time considering the implications of this latest twist in his investigation before sending for his sergeant.
‘What do we do now, sir?’ asked Marriott, once Hardcastle had told him of DI Collins’s findings.
‘We go back to Kingston and have a serious talk with Mrs Parker, Marriott, that’s what we do.’
As on the previous occasion that they had interviewed Mavis Parker, Hardcastle and Marriott waited near the gates of the Sopwith Aviation Company for her to emerge. Once she was inside her own home, the two detectives marched up the pathway and Hardcastle knocked loudly on her door.
‘Oh, hello, Inspector.’ Mrs Parker’s greeting was one of resignation, almost as if she had been expecting a visit from Hardcastle sooner or later. ‘You’d better come in.’
‘It’s about the letter from the Ministry of National Service addressed to your late husband, Mrs Parker,’ said Hardcastle, once the three of them were seated in Mavis’s comfortable parlour. ‘The one we found in your piano.’
‘I thought it might be.’
‘I’ve had it examined by an expert, Mrs Parker,’ Hardcastle began, ‘and he discovered your fingerprints on it.’ He decided not to mention that Mortimer’s prints were also on the letter. At least, not yet. ‘Perhaps you’d like to tell me how that came about, given that you told me that you’d not set eyes on it until I found it in your piano.’
It was some time before Mavis replied. ‘I’m in a very difficult position, Mr Hardcastle,’ she said eventually. ‘I’ve been warned by the authorities not to say anything to anybody about what I’ve been doing.’
‘I know what you’ve been doing, Mrs Parker,’ said Hardcastle, ‘and I can only say that your actions deserve the highest commendation. I have spoken to the head of Special Branch and he has told me everything.’
‘Well, I’m not sure . . .’ Mavis Parker still maintained her reluctance to talk about her activities.
Hardcastle decided to put her mind at rest. ‘I’ve been told officially that you were approached by a man called Lawrence Mortimer and that he was very interested in the new aeroplane that’s being produced by Sopwiths. I know also that you quite properly reported this to your manager and he, in turn, informed the police. And you were asked to cooperate with the authorities in conveying false information to Mortimer. The result was that he was arrested for espionage last Thursday.’
‘Oh, so you do know what I’ve been doing, then.’
‘About the letter, Mrs Parker,’ said Marriott. ‘How was it that your fingerprints were on it?’
‘Part of what I was doing involved befriending Lawrence and bringing him to the house.’
‘As a matter of interest, how did you meet him?’
‘At the roller skating rink . . .’ Mavis paused. ‘I know it sounds dreadful, but Ronnie and I hadn’t been getting on too well lately. I suppose it had something to do with the fact that we’d lost our son to diphtheria a year or two ago. We sort of grew apart after that, and my working at Sopwiths didn’t help. You see, I’d never had a job before and he was quite annoyed that I’d taken work at an aeroplane factory, but he would’ve been if I’d taken a job anywhere else for that matter. He said that a woman’s place was in the home. And, of course, that meant that we saw less and less of each other as time went by.’
‘That’s why you took up skating, was it?’ asked Hardcastle.
‘Yes. A few of the girls used to go there of an evening and that’s where I met Lawrence. Of course, at the time I’d no idea why he was so friendly, but, as you just said, he wanted to know about the new aeroplane. He said he was interested in aeroplanes and that I must have an interesting job. He took me out for dinner and for rides in his car and generally made a fuss of me. Well, for a girl working in the paint shop that was quite something, I can tell you. Anyway, I think Ronnie was having an affair, so, I thought to myself, if he can why shouldn’t I.’
‘And presumably that’s why you picked up with Wilfred Rudd,’ suggested Marriott.
Mavis blushed and put her hand to her mouth. ‘You must think I’m a very unfaithful wife,’ she said.
‘I suppose it was understandable in the circumstances,’ said Marriott. ‘You were obviously under a lot of stress, what with this business of Mortimer going on.’
Mavis Parker nodded. ‘Thinking back, I wasn’t altogether surprised when you told me Wilfred was a deserter. To be honest, I should’ve worked it out for myself, but I was taken in by all his talk of being an officer and winning medals.’ She shook her head. ‘Who would’ve thought he was just a hospital porter?’
‘About the letter, Mrs Parker,’ said Hardcastle, bringing her back to the matter in hand.
‘Oh, yes, the letter. Ronnie had been up for his tribunal in the middle of February, but they didn’t tell him the result straightaway. They said they’d write, but he never got the letter. Anyway, one day he just disappeared without a word. Lawrence said that Ronnie had told him that he was going to try to get to Holland so that he wouldn’t be called up.’
‘I take it that Mr Parker didn’t tell you this himself.’
‘No, he didn’t. I thought it rather strange. I know I said we’d grown apart, but he always told me what he was doing. And I’m sure he would’ve mentioned getting exemption from the conscription if he’d known.’
‘How did your late husband meet Lawrence?’ asked Marriott.
‘He called here for me on several evenings to go skating. I told Ronnie that he was actually a friend of one of the girl’s at the factory, but I don’t think he believed me. But by then, I didn’t really care what he thought, and I was so worried about what I was doing for the government. I did sometimes wonder if I’d finish up getting murdered.’
‘D’you think that Lawrence Mortimer suspected your husband of having found out he was a spy and threatened to tell the authorities?’
‘Maybe,’ said Mavis. ‘Ronnie was certainly curious to know where I went of an evening, because I don’t think he believed the roller skating story. I suspect that he might even have followed me on one or two occasions. I mentioned this to the government people – they called themselves my handlers – and they said I wasn’t to worry.’
‘But you eventually found the letter from the Ministry of National Service.’
‘Yes, it was after Ronnie had gone that I was tidying up and I found it in a drawer in the bedroom.’
‘And Lawrence Mortimer had been in the bedroom, had he?’
Mavis blushed again. ‘Yes, he had, several times,’ she said quietly, without elaborating. ‘I didn’t know what to do, so I hid the letter in the piano. I asked one of the policemen from Special Branch I was dealing with what I should do about it, and he said to forget about it. He said it was no good crying over spilt milk, which I thought was a bit of a cruel thing to say. And I couldn’t tell you anything about it because, as I said just now, I’d been told not to talk to anyone about what I was doing, even other policemen such as yourself. I’m sorry, Inspector, but I was only doing what I was told.’
‘I quite understand, Mrs Parker,’ said Hardcastle. ‘You were quite right to follow instructions. It must’ve been a difficult time
for you.’
‘It was, and then when you came to the factory and told me that Ronnie had been murdered, I thought about throwing it all in. I spoke to the policeman who was dealing with my case and he said that they were on the point of arresting Lawrence and that I wasn’t to do anything for the time being. He said that it would all be cleared up once Lawrence had been arrested.’
‘I see,’ said Hardcastle, furious that he had, once again, been the victim of what he saw as Special Branch chicanery.
It was almost nine o’clock by the time that Hardcastle and Marriott returned to Cannon Row police station.
‘Looks like Lawrence Mortimer is our murderer, sir,’ said Marriott.
‘Yes, it bloody well does, Marriott.’ Hardcastle was still furious that Special Branch had been deceiving him. ‘I shall see Superintendent Quinn first thing tomorrow morning.’
‘D’you think that Mortimer will admit to the murder, sir?’
‘I don’t know, Marriott, but if I was given five minutes with him in his cell he’d damned soon cough.’
And of that, Marriott was in no doubt, but he suspected, even so, that the DDI would not have the pleasure of seeing Mortimer arraigned for the murder of Ronald Parker. There would be little point if the man now known as Hauptmann Gerhard von Kleiber were to be executed for spying.
EIGHTEEN
Hardcastle was waiting outside Superintendent Quinn’s office door at twenty-five past nine on the Tuesday morning following his latest interview with Mavis Parker.
He heard the tap-tap of Quinn’s umbrella ferule on the stone-flagged floor well before the top-hatted figure of the Special Branch chief appeared round the corner.
‘Come in, Mr Hardcastle,’ said Quinn without breaking step. Once in his office, he placed his hat carefully on top of the safe, hung his raincoat on the hatstand and placed his umbrella on another of the hooks. ‘Now, what is it you want to see me about?’ He sat down behind his desk and gazed thoughtfully at the DDI standing before him. He did not invite him to sit down.
‘The murder of Ronald Parker, sir,’ said Hardcastle bluntly, wishing that he could light his pipe.
‘And I suppose you’ve come to tell me that Hauptmann Gerhard von Kleiber otherwise known as Lawrence Mortimer was the murderer. Well, Mr Hardcastle, he was.’
‘You know this to be the case, sir?’ Hardcastle’s face expressed a mixture of astonishment and annoyance.
‘It was obvious,’ said Quinn, ‘but we could not jeopardize a delicate operation for the sake of having him arrested for murder. There were far more important things at stake.’
‘Has von Kleiber admitted to the murder, sir?’ asked Hardcastle.
‘Of course he has.’ Quinn spoke as though that must have been the obvious conclusion at which to arrive. ‘But he’ll not be tried for it except in the unlikely event that he is found not guilty of offences under the Defence of the Realm Act. But I don’t see that happening. He’ll be indicted with the murder, of course, but the Attorney-General has intimated that he will either offer no evidence or ask for it to be adjourned sine die.’ Quinn paused. ‘You do know what is meant by sine die, do you?’
‘Yes, sir, adjourned indefinitely,’ said Hardcastle, furious that Quinn should think he was not familiar with the meaning of the Latin tag that was known to most policemen.
‘Very well. You may attend the trial if you wish. I shall have Drew inform you when we have a date. Good day to you, Mr Hardcastle.
It was apparent that the authorities intended to waste no time in arraigning Hauptmann Gerhard von Kleiber, alias Lawrence Mortimer, for spying. His trial was scheduled to take place two weeks to the day after his arrest, but the venue came as a shock to Hardcastle.
‘Good morning, sir,’ said Detective Inspector Aubrey Drew, as he entered the DDI’s office.
‘Good morning, Mr Drew. Take a seat and tell me what I can do for you.’
Drew was mildly amused that since becoming an inspector, Hardcastle always invited him to sit down. ‘Mr Quinn’s compliments, sir, and he asked me to advise you that the trial of Hauptmann Gerhard von Kleiber is to take place on Thursday the fourth of April. I understand that Mr Quinn told you that you and Sergeant Marriott may attend if you wish.’
‘It’ll be in the Old Bailey’s Number One Court, I presume.’ Hardcastle knew that important trials always took place in that particular courtroom, and he had given evidence there many times in the past.
Drew raised his eyebrows in surprise that Hardcastle seemed unaware of the procedure for trying German spies.
‘No, sir, not the Old Bailey. Von Kleiber will be tried by general court martial.’
‘Court martial?’ Hardcastle stared at Drew in astonishment. ‘What’s wrong with the Old Bailey?’
‘The Defence of the Realm Act states that spies, other than British nationals, will be tried by court martial and such courts have been granted the power to impose the death penalty.’
‘Good gracious!’ exclaimed Hardcastle. ‘And where is this court martial to take place?’
‘At the Tower of London, sir, commencing at 10 o’clock.’
The court martial was held in camera in one of the Tower’s cold and cavernous chambers, and was presided over by Major General the Lord Cheylesmore. He was flanked by a brigadier-general and two army officers of field rank, all of whom were in uniform complete with medals and swords. Also forming part of the court was the judge-advocate attired in wig and gown. On the blanket-covered table were two or three carafes of water and glasses, the New Testament, and copies of the Manual of Military Law and King’s Regulations.
The prosecuting officer was a portly major who had the appearance of someone unaffected by the strictures of food rationing. Another major had been appointed to defend von Kleiber. Each of these majors had been a practising barrister in peacetime.
The one indictment of espionage was put, but no mention was made of the count of murdering Ronald Parker. As Quinn had predicted, that charge had been disposed of at the police court.
Although experienced in criminal cases, and having attended a court martial in the past, Hardcastle nevertheless found the trial of von Kleiber a bewildering affair.
Mavis Parker was the first witness for the Crown. Led through her evidence by the prosecuting officer, she spoke confidently and convincingly of her part in the entrapment of the accused man. It was a side of her that Hardcastle had not seen before. Gone was the timid, almost mouse-like woman of his interviews with her and she was clearly made of sterner stuff than even the DDI had realized.
Mavis Parker was followed by various MI5 officers, including Captain Gilbert Stroud, who gave evidence of the surveillance that had been maintained by MI5. Several cryptographers appeared and produced copies and translations of the coded letters sent by von Kleiber and intercepted by the Post Office. The Special Branch officers who had arrested von Kleiber testified to the finding of the later incriminating documents and photographs that were in his possession when he was detained.
Finally Superintendent Quinn gave an account of his interview with von Kleiber that had immediately followed the latter’s arrest. The defence lawyer asked why von Kleiber had not been arrested earlier, given that coded letters had been intercepted. The reply, almost scathing in tone, was that although von Kleiber could have been proved evidentially to have sent the letters, it was preferable to apprehend him with incriminating documents on his person.
The court retired for a mere forty minutes to consider their inevitable verdict, and Lord Cheylesmore pronounced sentence.
‘Gerhard von Kleiber, you have been found guilty of espionage against Our Sovereign Lord the King for which there is but one penalty. You will be confined here at the Tower of London where at a time to be fixed by one of His Majesty’s Secretaries of State you will be executed by firing squad. And may the Lord have mercy on your soul.’
Von Kleiber remained at attention and impassive during the sentence, but when Lord Cheylesmore ordered that he be t
aken to the condemned cell, he clicked his heels, bowed and turned smartly. His only utterance throughout his trial had been to plead Not Guilty.
‘Well, that’s that, Mr Hardcastle,’ said Superintendent Quinn, when he encountered the DDI in the street outside the Tower.
‘So it would seem, sir,’ said Hardcastle, as he and Quinn doffed their hats at a passing military cortège.
‘Yes, well now you can get on with your ordinary duties of catching criminals. Good day to you, Mr Hardcastle.’ Ignoring Marriott completely, Quinn hailed a cab by raising his umbrella. ‘Scotland Yard, cabbie,’ he said.
‘He might’ve offered us a lift,’ muttered Hardcastle, peering up and down the road in search of another taxi, ‘but, there again, I’ve never known Special Branch to give anything away.’ The fact that he had obliquely criticized a senior officer to a junior one – something he would not normally do – was an indication of his annoyance with the entire debacle of the Ronald Parker investigation.
‘I’ll start on drafting the final report as soon as we get back, sir.’
‘Don’t be in too much of a hurry, Marriott,’ said Hardcastle. ‘Despite what Mr Quinn said, I’m far from satisfied that von Kleiber was Parker’s murderer. There’s more to this whole business than meets the eye. We’ll dig a little deeper.’
‘But surely the fact that von Kleiber confessed to the murder puts an end to it, sir.’ Marriott was beginning to wonder what was really behind the DDI’s enigmatic comment.
‘Yes, but that’s all we have, that he confessed to it,’ muttered Hardcastle. ‘There’s no other evidence to support his admission, no firearm, nothing. It don’t hang together, Marriott.’ Sighting a cab at last, he instructed the driver to take them to Scotland Yard. Such was his irritation that he omitted to offer Marriott the usual cautionary advice about his reason for not asking to be taken to Cannon Row.
On the following morning, despite Gerhard von Kleiber’s confession, Hardcastle reopened his investigation into the murder of Ronald Parker. And he began by once again examining all the statements and reports that had been made since the day that Parker’s body was recovered from the Thames by the river police.