Carver's Truth

by Nick Rennison

  ‘I do not think I expected you to believe it,’ Adam replied. ‘Not all of it, anyway.’ He watched the flight of half a dozen crows which had taken off from a lime tree in the centre of the square and were heading towards the Krolloper. ‘Is there nothing we can do to bring Vernon’s killer to justice?’

  Etherege shook his head. ‘Nothing at all,’ he said.

  ‘But it was the most cold-blooded act of murder. Ravelstein simply ordered his man to shoot Harry. And I witnessed everything. I would be prepared to testify to what I saw.’

  ‘It would be of no use, Carver. You can have no conception of the influence the count wields. We would be wasting our time and compromising our standing with Bismarck and the Wilhelmstrasse – and the emperor.’

  ‘And the emperor would not be troubled that one of his own properties had been the scene for murder?’

  Etherege waved away the remark. ‘It is an indication,’ he said, ‘of Ravelstein’s confidence in his own immunity that he was prepared to use the Schloss on Pfaueninsel for the purpose he did. He believes he is above the law and, to all intents and purposes, as long as he retains Bismarck’s trust, he is.’ The two men resumed their walk. ‘The curious fact about last night’s events is not so much that the count had a man killed at the Lustschloss,’ the diplomat said after a short silence. ‘It is that he chose to have him killed at all. Why would Ravelstein wish to kill Vernon?’

  ‘I have asked myself that question,’ Adam said. ‘Presumably Harry had cheated him of what he wanted. But murdering him would serve no purpose other than to punish him for his treachery. The count would be no nearer to getting his hands on what he expected to receive.’

  ‘And what, I wonder, did he expect to receive?’ Etherege asked, as innocently as if he were inquiring the time of day.

  An elderly man, wrapped in a fur-lined coat more suited to winter than spring, was approaching them, heading towards the Krolloper. He raised his hat as he passed and wished them good morning, giving Adam a little time to formulate an answer to Etherege’s question. What should he tell him? Sunman had advised – indeed, almost ordered – him to say nothing of his true reasons for coming to Berlin. But now? The circumstances had changed so dramatically and he had, in effect, admitted to the diplomat that he had been lying to him earlier. He had told him a good deal of the truth but by no means all. Was it now the time to make a clean breast of everything? Etherege had all but guessed the reasons behind Vernon’s flight from London already, had he not? As he was thinking matters over, Etherege began to speak again and, in doing so, relieved Adam of the responsibility of a decision.

  ‘Let me propose a hypothetical answer to my own question,’ the diplomat said. ‘Harry Vernon abstracted some document of major significance from the Foreign Office. For the purposes of my hypothesis, it is not important to know exactly what the document is – in some ways, I prefer not to know. He brought it to Berlin with the idea of selling it to the Germans. This document is what Ravelstein expected to receive. Does this sound at all plausible to you?’

  Adam inclined his head slightly to indicate that it did. He was still debating with himself how far to take his companion into his confidence as Etherege continued to speak.

  ‘In the meantime, you arrive in Berlin, despatched by our mutual friend Sunman and the FO in hot pursuit of Vernon, and the missing document. Although I am a little unclear as to why you were chosen to follow him – as far as I can discover, you are no more than a traveller and writer with an amateur interest in photography. You have no connection with the FO, although you were at school and Cambridge with Sunman. However, that little mystery is not one of any great significance. The important fact is that you were sent, and that you were able to locate Vernon at the Schloss on Pfaueninsel. However, Vernon – and now I am venturing even further into the realms of hypothesis – was so foolish as to believe that he could play tricks with Ravelstein. He tried to betray him in some way.’ Etherege paused and looked at Adam. ‘What do you think of my theory so far? Does it hold water, do you think?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Adam conceded, ‘but we are still no nearer an explanation of why the count murdered Harry.’

  ‘Ah, but I think we are.’ Etherege had slowed his pace as they walked and Adam, in order to keep in step, did likewise. They were now barely moving. ‘I would suggest that Ravelstein felt free to kill Vernon because he knew that someone else was involved in the game they were all playing. And because killing Vernon would demonstrate to that other person how serious he, Ravelstein, was about playing it.’

  The thought that Harry had a confederate, and that the count knew this, was obvious enough. If the German count had thought Harry was acting alone, why would he have been prepared to kill the only man who could hand over the submarine plans to him?

  ‘What of the girl at your hotel? The one with whom Vernon travelled.’ Etherege had now stopped on the path and was gazing down at his brilliantly polished shoes, as if admiring their sheen. ‘Could she be the other player in the game?’ The diplomat turned his eyes to Adam. ‘I can see that you do not think she is.’

  ‘On Pfaueninsel, Ravelstein seemed to be of the opinion that I was.’

  ‘He will be of that opinion no longer. We have sent a message via an agent whom the Germans think is working for them but is actually working for us. You travelled to Berlin to dissuade Vernon from his treachery.’

  ‘And the count will believe this?’

  ‘He trusts the agent. You and your servant are no longer at risk from Ravelstein and his men. However, the girl is another matter. He will be aware, of course, of her existence. I do believe she might be in some danger.’

  ‘Danger?’ Adam had not considered the possibility.

  ‘I think we can assume that the count knew from the start that she and Vernon arrived in Berlin together. He may also have concluded that she knows more than she does about her lover’s scheme. He may intend to’ – the diplomat paused to choose the right word – ‘persuade her to tell him what he thinks she knows.’

  ‘Where is she now?’ Adam asked.

  ‘In her room at the hotel. At least, she was there an hour ago. I have a man on the staff who reports to me.’

  Adam raised an eyebrow. ‘You seem to have a small army of men who report to you,’ he said.

  ‘It is as well in a city like Berlin to know what is going on.’ Etherege replied with a smile.

  ‘So Dolly is still at the Deutscher Hof. And ignorant of what has taken place.’ Adam turned to look at his companion. ‘I do believe it is my responsibility to tell her what has happened.’

  ‘Advise her to leave the city, Carver, as swiftly as she possibly can. In the light of what has happened, we cannot guarantee her safety.’

  ‘I shall do so immediately.’ Adam cursed himself for not thinking earlier of the peril Dolly might possibly face. He was now eager to make amends for his negligence.

  He nodded briefly to Etherege and began to stride determinedly in the direction of the Brandenburger Tor. The diplomat watched him disappear into the distance, and then followed him at a much more leisurely pace.

  * * * * *

  The lobby of the hotel on Unter den Linden was filled with people when Adam entered it soon after midday. A group of military officers in uniform surrounded the reception desk. Prosperous and well-fed gentlemen, together with their elegant wives, criss-crossed the black-and-white marble floor on their way to their rooms.

  Politely offering apologies as he did so, Adam pushed his way through the crowd and reached the stairs. Dolly’s rooms were, like his own, on the first floor. He walked along the well-lit corridor until he came to the door he recognized from his previous visit. He tapped quietly on it three times. There was no sound from within. He put his ear to the door but could still hear nothing. He tried the handle and, slightly to his surprise,
it opened.

  Once more in the sitting room of Dolly’s suite, Adam discovered it unoccupied. As he looked around, however, he heard a sound from behind another door which, he assumed, led to Dolly’s bedroom. He was about to call out to the young woman but thought better of it. He moved across the room and pushed the inner door very slightly. It swung back a few inches and allowed him to see what was happening within.

  Dolly was standing by her unmade bed, her hand resting on the coverlet. She was dressed in a nightgown as if she had just risen from sleep. She was staring in fear at a man in a black jacket and grey trousers, his back to Adam, who was pointing a gun in her direction.

  The man spoke a few words in German.

  ‘I tell you I ain’t got the first idea what you’re saying.’ Dolly’s voice was trembling. ‘If it’s gelt you want, I ain’t got any.’

  Frozen in the doorway, Adam was struggling to decide his best course of action. Should he retreat while he could? Or attempt to disarm the man?

  ‘I got some jumbaree you can ’ave,’ Dolly said. ‘Rings and brooches and stuff. They’re in the flash box over there.’ She gestured towards her dressing table. The German made no response. Dolly had now seen Adam, and her eyes must have betrayed the fact as the man with the gun began to turn to his left. It was now or never.

  Adam hurled back the door and threw himself forward. As he did so, he heard the gun go off. There was a scream from the young woman as Adam crashed into the intruder. He seized the man around the waist and propelled him to the floor. The pistol skittered across the floor.

  The German was quicker to recover than Adam. He swung his fist towards the young man’s jaw and made contact. Adam’s head snapped back and he felt close to losing consciousness. He could only watch dumbly as the intruder pulled himself to his feet and looked around for his gun. It was not immediately in sight. He must have decided that he had no time to look for it, as the man turned and fled.

  He left Adam half stunned on the floor, and Dolly on her bed, blood seeping from a wound in her chest.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  ‘Herr Doktor Brandt, at your service, sir.’ The man who had stopped in front of Adam clicked his heels in a way that suggested the military profession more than it did the medical.

  ‘Adam Carver.’ The young man bowed his head in reply. He had just arrived at one of the buildings of the city’s Charité hospital. Dolly, Etherege had told him, had been taken there. When he had enquired for her in broken German, a nurse had left him and returned with the elegant, black-coated gentleman who had just introduced himself.

  ‘You vish to see Miss Delaney?’ Brandt was tall and thin, with a pointed beard of sculptured neatness.

  Adam agreed that this was exactly what he wished to do.

  ‘You are the lady’s lover, perhaps?’ Dr Brandt pronounced the word as ‘luffah’.

  Adam was slightly taken aback by the doctor’s use of the word at all, although he acknowledged to himself that it was not an inappropriate one. ‘No, I am just a friend,’ he said, after a brief pause. ‘From London.’

  ‘Ah, from London.’ The doctor spoke as if he had certainly heard of the city, but only as a kind of old, half-fabled metropolis such as Troy or Babylon.

  ‘Miss Delaney is well enough to see me?’

  ‘Vell?’ The doctor sounded personally affronted. ‘She is not vell. Not vell by any means. She is badly vounded.’ He seemed suddenly to grow less fierce. ‘But she is vell enough to see a friend from London.’

  They walked together down one of the hospital’s long, grey corridors, Brandt’s shoes beating out a rhythm as he went, just as if he were one of the soldiers forever marching down Unter den Linden. After thirty yards, he stopped abruptly at a door outside which a man in a dark blue uniform sat on a chair, a peaked helmet perched on his lap. The man, whom Adam took to be some sort of policeman, stood up and smartly saluted Brandt. The doctor nodded briefly at the guard, who then threw the door open.

  Adam peered in and could see Dolly lying in a bed, apparently asleep. He was surprised at how agitated he felt. ‘May I speak to Miss Delaney alone?’

  ‘It is most irregular,’ Brandt said, ‘most irregular. But I haff been told to allow it.’

  Adam wondered who had told him. He assumed that Etherege had been in contact with the hospital but he could not imagine why the hospital authorities should particularly wish to accommodate the requests of the British Embassy. And what of Ravelstein? Surely he had not spoken to anyone here? Adam nodded his thanks to Brandt and walked into the room.

  ‘I vill be outside,’ the doctor called after him. ‘You haff five minutes to speak to your friend.’ He closed the door.

  The girl was lying on a vast bed beneath the only window in the room. She was propped up by several pillows. As Adam came closer, he could see that she was not, as he had first thought, asleep: her eyes were half open, and she was staring out of the window at the blue sky above Berlin. The whole of her upper body was heavily bandaged. She was as pale as parchment, Adam thought.

  She turned as he approached, her face pinched with pain, and gazed at him as if she were unsure who he was.

  ‘Good day to you, Miss Delaney,’ Adam said, ‘I trust they are looking after you here.’

  ‘I ain’t got too many complaints,’ the girl said in a whisper. ‘The head nurse is a bit of a bleedin’ tartar, mind.’

  ‘I am sorry to intrude upon you at a time such as this, but I have a number of questions to which I must have answers.’

  Dolly made no reply. She continued to look emptily at him.

  ‘I have to know what Vernon told you about his reasons for coming to Berlin.’ Adam paused, but the young woman said nothing. ‘And I need to ask you why you changed your name.’

  Dolly made a noise that might almost have been a bitter laugh. She was clearly no more inclined to acknowledge any lingering fondness for Adam than she had been at the Deutscher Hof.

  ‘You still badgering me about that? Ain’t I ever going to get any peace?’

  ‘You can prevaricate no longer, Miss Delaney,’ Adam said, suddenly formal in his address. ‘As you know, Harry Vernon is dead. Someone has tried to kill you. You must tell me all you know.’

  The girl closed her eyes.

  For a moment Adam thought she would say no more. A clock on the wall of the room ticked noisily; there was no other sound.

  Adam was about to speak again when Dolly opened her eyes and glared furiously at him. ‘We went to Boulogne, didn’t we?’ she said. ‘Not that long before we started at the Prince Albert. The two of us, and Harry. We go as Dolly and Hetty and we come back the other way about. Harry give me papers that proved I was Hetty Gallant. I’ve still got ’em. Back at the ’otel.’

  ‘What about the other girl?’

  ‘She got papers that proved she was Dolly.’

  ‘But why did she agree to the deception? I can just about understand your motives for changing your name – you would be able to start upon a new life with Harry Vernon, with a new identity. And the papers to prove who you were should you wish to travel. But what were her reasons?’

  ‘Rhino.’ Dolly held her hand out of the bedcovers and feebly rubbed her finger and thumb together. ‘Wotcher think? Harry ’anded her thirty quid.’

  Adam was astonished. The sum was an enormous one. It was very nearly as much as he paid Quint in a year. ‘And yet a few weeks later,’ he said, ‘she was posing naked for money and applying for subsidies from Miss Bascombe. How could she have spent so much in so little a time?’

  ‘’Er mother.’

  ‘Her mother spent it?’ Adam was finding it difficult to follow what he was being told.

  ‘’Er mother ’ad the phossy jaw. Remember what I told you about my Aunt Loo and the matches?’ Adam nodded.
‘Well, it wasn’t my aunt I was talking about, it was ’Etty’s ma. ’Etty spent a fortune on doctors and ’ospitals and med’cines. And then ’er ma died anyways.’

  ‘And so poor Hetty lost both her money and her mother.’ Adam was abashed to hear what Dolly was telling him. All the elaborate stories of blackmail and skulduggery that he and Quint had concocted, and the simple truth was that the girl needed money to buy treatment for her sick mother.

  Dolly was now attempting to pull herself up in the bed. She was unable to do so and sank back onto her pillow with a cry of pain. The sound brought Dr Brandt into the room. He took one look at his patient and then turned to Adam.

  ‘Did I not tell you that your friend was not vell?’ he said sternly. ‘I must now insist. You vill leave her in peace and kviet.’

  Adam had no option. He glanced briefly at Dolly, only to see that she had closed her eyes again. He raised his hat to the doctor and left. As he walked back down the long corridor, he wondered what exactly his feelings were for the wounded girl in the room.

  * * * * *

  ‘Damn you, Quint. Have a care with that razor.’ Adam was sitting in a chair in his hotel room and staring into a large mirror. A towel was draped around his shoulders and his face was half covered in shaving soap. Behind him, he could see his manservant holding aloft a razor dripping with white lather. ‘I want my chin shaved, not my throat cut.’

  Quint grunted and dipped the razor into a bowl of water that was sitting on a marble-topped table to his right. ‘Less chance of that,’ he said, ‘if you was to sit still in the bleeding chair and not fidget like a dog with fleas.’

  Adam peered into the mirror. A tiny rivulet of blood was running down his neck and drops were falling onto the towel. He lifted a corner of it and wiped the blood away. ‘I should have entrusted my whiskers to some Teutonic Figaro,’ he said, ‘rather than allowed you near my chin with such a lethal weapon.’