The Iron Shadow

by Stefano Siggia

  The man with the walking stick began coughing loudly, a harsh, coarse cough intermixed with sprays of saliva. One drop was about to land on the soldier’s right boot when he dodged swiftly, moving aside in a great leap. He urged them to move along, and fast, gesturing frantically with his arm.

  The young man nodded in gratitude and the band began moving once more towards the building with the Red Cross flag hanging on one of the balconies.

  Polio. The poor sods. Just what he needed on another crap day.

  *

  The place the Countess had pointed them toward was actually a complex of four long, narrow, three-story houses, each different from the other, but united together to form a single block. It looked like anything but a school for nurses. Melbourne knocked on the central door, and a few seconds later a nurse appeared dressed in a light blue uniform with a white apron and a white cap.

  “We need your help,” he said.

  The nurse frowned. “We are full here. You will need to cross the street, just to the other side. There you will find the Berkendael Institute. They can help you — ”

  “No. We need your help. We were sent here to find the matron. By the Countess of Libremont. It is of utmost urgency.”

  The nurse looked a little perplexed but let them in the entrance hall. As soon as the door was shut behind them they removed the hoods. Melbourne straightened up and massaged his aching back, leaning on the walking stick that for the first time actually served a real purpose. Julie and the Countess’ maid let out a sigh of relief. Melbourne winked at Albert for his great performance with the soldier outside.

  “I will go and try to find the head matron for — ”

  “No need, I am right here.”

  A woman dressed in a long dark blue nurse’s uniform with a white collar that concealed part of her neck walked in. She was in her late forties, judging from the grey streaks in her hair revealed beneath a white nurse’s cap. The expression on her face was determined, stern, yet somehow kind and gentle.

  “Let me introduce myself,” she said. “I am Edith Cavell. How may I assist you?”

  “Miss Cavell,” Melbourne said, “we were sent by the Countess of Libremont. She told us you could be of help.”

  Miss Cavell looked at the company before her and nodded. “I see.”

  And it was just then that Lucinde collapsed from exhaustion.

  *

  The steam from the hot cup of tea rose into the air in an elegant, almost ballet-like spirals before disappearing into nothingness. Melbourne passed his hand over the cup, cutting the flow of steam. He passed his hand left and right doing this several times, feeling the warmth of the tea caressing his palm. It was quiet and he was all alone in the small kitchen of the school. He felt the beginnings of peace for the first time in days. Night had already fallen, and his friends were still resting in one of the rooms on the upper floors. He had slept as well, although uneasily. He couldn’t erase the image of the Countess smiling and closing the trap door on him. The crumpled picture of his family lay on the table before him. He picked it up and looked at it. That proud face of his brother. How he wished he was living those days again. How he wished things had turned out differently.

  “Hello there,” said Miss Cavell, as she entered the kitchen followed by a mid-sized dog.

  The dog wearily approached the guest and began sniffing his shoes. Melbourne tucked the photograph back in his pocket and caressed the dog’s grey head, scratching him behind his short ears as he sat on its hind legs, enjoying the moment. He couldn’t exactly tell what kind of dog it was, though it probably had a bit of German Shepherd in it.

  “His name is Jack, and he doesn’t do that very often to strangers. For some reason or another he must like you.” Miss Cavell fumbled a bit in a cupboard, then took out a kettle and a cup. “Good idea,” she said looking at Melbourne’s tea. “I will have one too. Have you had a serving of Madame de Vreylick’s excellent carrot cake?”

  Melbourne shook his head. She took out the cake and sliced a healthy, large piece, placing it on a small dish and handing it to Melbourne. He took a bite and suddenly his world felt a little brighter.

  “This is incredible,” he said.

  “Indeed, it is. What is your name, boy?”

  “Melbourne, Melbourne Summers.”

  “And where are you from, Mr. Summers?”

  Steam began bellowing out of the kettle.

  “Cambridge,” he said.

  “Quite a lovely place, or so I’ve heard. Wonderful Cathedral. I am from Norfolk.”

  “Norfolk? Well, what is someone from Norfolk doing in a place like this?”

  “It’s quite a long story. I came here to Brussels years ago and was asked by a dear friend of mine to run a school for nurses in this very building. I did it for quite a few years until the war broke out. My family longed for me return to home but I felt that it was my duty to remain here and help the sick and wounded. I have always wanted to do something useful in my life, something for the hurt and helpless. I can’t stop while there are lives to be saved, and I knew that there would be a lot of saving to do with his war. So here I am.” She poured water through a strainer full of tea. “So, what about you and your friends? How do you know the Countess de Libremont?”

  “Well, it is quite a long story too,” he said.

  Miss Cavell smiled as she stirred her tea. Taking the cup in her hands, she walked over to Melbourne’s table and sat next to him. Jack cuddled at her feet. “Well, perhaps we could start with the basics. Are you a soldier?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, don’t tell me you are one of those horrible war tourists?”

  War tourists? “Oh no, none of that. I am a pilot, No. 2 Squadron of the RFC.”

  “Dear goodness! Did you get stranded here in Belgium?”

  “Not… quite.”

  She smiled at him over her teacup. “You don’t want to tell me your story, do you?”

  “It’s… complicated. Whoever I told my story to — ”

  A young German soldier entered the kitchen. Melbourne instinctively leaned forward to hide his face.

  “Ah, there you are Johann,” Miss Cavell said. “Come for a slice of the carrot cake as well, have you?”

  The German soldier nodded as Miss Cavell got up and moved towards the cake. Melbourne watched the soldier out of the corner of his eye, always aware of just where he was in the room. The soldier turned his head towards him and gave him a shy smile as if to salute him. Melbourne nodded back as his fingers slowly crept towards a knife that lay on the table.

  Miss Cavell handed the soldier his slice of cake on a plate. The young man said “Danke,” and left the kitchen.

  Miss Cavell turned towards Melbourne and saw his hand on the knife. “You may relax. There’s nothing to fear.”

  He slowly moved his hand away. “What… is this place exactly?”

  “This is a school and a hospital, Mr. Summers. I thought you would have realised that by now.”

  “And you treat… them? There are Germans in here?”

  “Quite a few to be honest. Is that a problem?”

  “What is the problem? They are slaughtering our men, destroying entire cities, and you house them in here?” Melbourne was flabbergasted.

  Miss Cavell sat back down. “This is a Red Cross hospital and it is open to all who are in need, whatever nation they belong to. The majority of those men that you call your enemy are just like you. They are hurt, wounded, and all that they wish is to stop fighting and go home to their families, wives, and lovers. They are afraid, unhappy, and most don’t even know what they’re fighting for, but they have no choice. Don’t judge an entire population by the aggressive acts of a few imbeciles who have power and authority. Most aren’t like that.”

  Melbourne sat in silence. It was far easier to do what he did if he didn’t think of Germans as people. He remembered that Danielle had said much the same about the similarities between her and him.

  “Now,” Mis
s Cavell said, “I am guessing Countess de Libremont sent you here so that you can escape Belgium?”

  “Can you help us do that?”

  “Indeed, I can. You could call it my secondary job here. I offer false documents to soldiers who need to leave this country but cannot. I can do the same for you and your friends. You can return home if you wish, although now is really not the time – the Dutch border has become practically impassable recently. The stretch between Maastricht and Antwerp has been mined, and sentinels patrol the rest. I pray to God the men I sent across are well and safe.”

  Melbourne placed a hand to his forehead. That was just what he needed to hear.

  “Is there something wrong?” Miss Cavell said.

  “It’s just that… I…”

  “Tell me.”

  A tear began running down Melbourne’s cheek. “I failed my mission. I failed my brother. I failed everything and everyone.”

  “Why did you fail? Tell me.”

  Melbourne let it all out. He told her about his brother’s death, about how he was sent to Belgium, of the Iron Shadow, of Danielle and her lies, the escape of the Esmond’s, of trying to save Julie and her family, of the showdown at the Countess de Libremont’s castle. He let it all out. All of it.

  “I put everyone’s life in peril through my own naïve trust,” he said. “I ruined everything. I came here to search for the truth behind my brother’s death and I just brought more destruction to good people who tried to help him. I should have stayed with my Squadron. I’d probably be dead by now, and everyone would be better off. I’ve made a complete mess of it all.”

  He lowered his head on his arm that rested on the table and began sobbing.

  Miss Cavell placed her hand on his and delicately caressed it.

  “That’s not failure, Mr. Summers,” she said. “I’ve seen the real thing, too often. Failure is being too afraid to take chances that are right in front of you. Failure is seeing evil being done and not fighting back. Failure is giving up in the midst of a fight, letting go when you’ve given it all.”

  Slowly his sobbing subsided, though he didn’t look up.

  “When I first started this school many years ago,” she said. “I had all the odds against me. The honourable job of nursing was considered servant’s work in this country, and it took years to convince them otherwise. Days before the opening of this school nothing here was finished. Recruits were hard to find, many quit straight away, their pay was low, there were no lifts in the building, meals and patients had to be carried up and down the steep stairs, there was no light in rooms, and don’t remind me of the terrible cockroach invasion we had in the kitchen just after we first started. I was told repeatedly I would not make it, and I often agreed. I could have gone back to Britain, or another country where the practice of nursing was better respected and setting up a school would have been simpler. Yet, I stayed here because, if I left, I would have truly failed.”

  She patted his hand. “Failure, Mr. Summers, is not even trying. You tried. With all your might, you tried and haven’t given up despite all you’ve been through. You did something quite brave, something that most people would not have had the courage to do. You put your life forward for these people, for your brother, for his truth. You risked your life to save people you barely know. I am sure your brother is proud of you and is looking upon you with a smile. These are hard times, I know, but stay open to the good in life. It may seem hard to see but it is all around you, everywhere, even in the darkest of hours. I know because I have seen it in many people around me. Including yourself.”

  Melbourne finally raised his head and looked at her. His face was red, wet, and with swollen eyes. Miss Cavell smiled at him and he smiled back.

  “Will they be all right?” he said. “My friends?”

  “Yes, I promise. And so will you. I will make sure you all get back to England in one piece.”

  Melbourne nodded with a sigh. He believed her, and he was glad he had at least managed that. But she seemed distracted, staring at the half empty plate of carrot cake.

  “Is there something wrong?” he asked.

  “Oh, nothing really, it’s just that… there was something you said earlier. A shadow of some sort?”

  “The Iron Shadow?”

  “Yes, the Iron Shadow. It is quite peculiar that you mention it. A man, slightly older than you, came here looking for shelter and a place to stay out of sight for some time. He was not wounded or hurt but was in a state of intense agitation. The nurses would sometimes pass by his room during the night and they said that they would hear him talk in his sleep, mumbling in his dreams about the Iron Shadow. This was repeated several nights in a row.”

  Melbourne dried his eyes and sat up straight. “How long ago was this?”

  “Not that long ago, just a week and a half.”

  Melbourne realised someone else knew of the Iron Shadow, someone he had completely forgotten about. His brother’s contact. Who could easily also be aware of this safe house.

  “This man,” he asked. “Is he still here?”

  “No, he left, disappearing into thin air. He asked me to procure him a false passport, but then he suddenly left without warning, taking with him a German uniform of all things. I believe he may have been a spy.”

  Melbourne frowned. Why did he steal a German soldier’s uniform? “Is there anything more you can tell me about this man? Anything at all?”

  “Let me think,” she said. “I could only manage to get a few words out of him. When I asked him his name he refused to give it to me. I was quite cross with him and told him that I must call him something. He told me to call him Doctor V. I highly doubt he was an actual doctor. I believe he was running away from something. He said that if a woman, much like the one you described, came looking for him here that I should not let her in under any circumstance and that I should try to make her leave. I was astounded by his behaviour.”

  Melbourne lay back in his chair. Doctor V was still alive which meant there was a slight chance that he could learn what the Iron Shadow was. If only he could find him.

  “Did he leave anything behind?” Melbourne asked.

  Miss Cavell thought for a few seconds. “Indeed, he did actually. An umbrella. He tried burning in it out in the garden, that mad fellow, but one of the nurses was able to salvage it before it was destroyed. It was such a nice specimen, and with the weather in this country as it is… Anyway, we kept it.”

  Melbourne bolted up from his chair making it screech behind him. Jack sprang up as well and barked twice.

  “Do you still have it?” Melbourne asked.

  Miss Cavell looked at him in surprise. “Why, yes.”

  “Show it to me.”

  XLIII

  Miss Cavell led Melbourne through a series of doors and rooms, and back out into the entrance hall where they had first met. Next to the front door, just under a coat hook fixed to the wall, was a long, brass umbrella holder.

  Melbourne eyed the assortment of umbrellas. “Which one?”

  “Let me see.” Miss Cavell shuffled through the handles, shifting them around until she held one up. “Ah! This one.”

  She held it up for Melbourne to see. It was a nice model, with a slick black oiled silk canopy, burnt on one side, and a mahogany handle that bent downwards.

  “May I?” Melbourne took it in his hand and began studying it. The palm of his hand ran down the smooth canopy until it touched the metallic tip of the umbrella. He twisted and pulled to see if it moved, but it was solidly placed. Opening it, he began looking at its interior workings, the metallic, silver runner that extended into a web of stretchers, all in perfect condition. It was as if the umbrella had barely ever been touched.

  There was nothing odd, nothing out of the ordinary. Why did Doctor V try to destroy it?

  “What are you looking for exactly?” Miss Cavell asked.

  “I’m really not sure.” He closed the umbrella and held it upside down.

  Something shi
fted, with a barely audible sliding sound. Melbourne looked at Miss Cavell who had noticed the sound as well. He began moving the umbrella upside down and back up again while putting his ear close to the black cloth. A soft sliding noise came from the hollow handle.

  There was something inside it.

  He thought of just snapping it over his knee, but whatever was inside might be delicate. He held the curved handle under a nearby lamp, and under closer inspection, he found a thin line that encircled the bottom part of it. Placing a hand on the handle, Melbourne began twisting it counter clockwise. Nothing happened. He tried once again, clockwise this time. The handle resisted a moment, then started to move with a jerk.

  He unscrewed the handle like the lid of a jar. Miss Cavell, mouth agape, drew closer to him. It took a few turns for the handle to fully free itself and to reveal a hole in the central wooden shaft. It was hollow inside it.

  Melbourne turned the seeming umbrella upside down once more and a long, thin, and dark object fell out. Miss Cavell caught it in her hand before it hit the ground. She held it up to study it along with Melbourne. It was flat and slightly curved from having stayed probably too long inside the cane. The ends of it were uneven, as if they had been cut carelessly or in haste.

  “What is this?” Miss Cavell whispered.

  But Melbourne knew. “Microfilm.”

  He unrolled it gently on the hall table. The celluloid looked frail, but the five images contained in the strip seemed to be in good shape. Miss Cavell looked towards the hallway near where they stood and up at the stairs that led to the upper floors. Content that no one was watching them she took him by the hand. “Come with me. I know what we can use to view the film.”

  Melbourne quickly screwed the umbrella together and placed it back where they had found it. Then he followed Miss Cavell through a dark door behind the main staircase. She brought him to a small storage room and found the object she needed it in just a few seconds – a paraffin magic lantern that looked to be decades old. It was bulky and Melbourne helped Miss Cavell carry it out.