by Leo McNeir
“A busy man, if it was a man,” Donovan observed.
“That’s not all. One of Knightly’s main tasks was to gather support for the Nazi cause among the British upper classes.”
Donovan stood up and crossed to the window, looking out through the venetian blinds.
“Does that mean he was connected with Knightly Court?”
“What is that, a manor house?”
“Yes.”
Hallgarten consulted the file. “There is no mention of this manor.”
“But –” Donovan checked himself. He took his seat again. “Is there any other information in your folder?”
“No. Like several of the files it ends abruptly. Knightly seems to have disappeared in September 1944.”
“You think he was captured or eliminated?”
Hallgarten shrugged. “No explanation is given in these papers.”
“And that’s everything you know?” Donovan sounded disappointed.
“My dear young man, there are scholars who write doctorates on less information than this.” She laughed. “What did you expect?”
“Of course. May we have copies of the papers?”
“No. That’s impossible. You must see that.”
“Yes, but I had to ask.”
He pulled a pad out of his back pocket and wrote rapid notes. When he had finished, he read them back in German to Hallgarten who confirmed the details were correct.
Helga emerged from the kitchen and took away the dishes. In the doorway she turned and asked if they would like tea or coffee. Donovan declined the offer and said they had to be on their way. The professor closed the folder and set it down on the bureau.
“Have you a long way to go?” Helga asked. She had a good accent.
“That may depend on the weather.”
Helga looked towards the window. “It’s snowing again, quite thick.”
Anne and Donovan thanked Hallgarten for the information and her hospitality. She took them to the door. Suddenly Helga appeared behind her, holding out a small packet.
“Some Christmas biscuits to take with you.”
Anne took them. They were wrapped in a gift box and tied with ribbon.
“Thank you so much. That’s lovely.”
Helga smiled, nodded and retreated to the kitchen.
“I don’t suppose this is how you imagined me,” Hallgarten said. “Daughter of Nazi spymaster.” She smiled. “You must have been expecting someone like Mata Hari or Rosa Luxemburg.”
“Thanks for your help, professor,” Anne said.
“I hope what I told you is helpful.”
Donovan shook her hand. “We’ll know that when we get back.”
Outside, the night was growing colder and a deeper layer of snow covered the ground. Donovan scraped the windscreen clear and climbed into the car beside Anne, who was consulting the atlas.
“Where to now?” she said. “Should we stay somewhere in the town? It might be better than the country.”
Donovan agreed. He started up the engine and pulled on his driving gloves. Before pulling away, he glanced up at the flats. On the first floor he made out a shape behind open venetian blinds. Helga was looking down on them. She waved as they moved off from the kerb. Further down the street they made a three-point turn and headed back the way they had come.
“Can you see Sachsenhausen on the map?” Donovan asked. He spelt the name.
“This side of the river,” Anne confirmed. “We’re pointing in the right direction.”
“I think we’ll find a hotel in that part of –”
Anne looked up. “What is it?”
Donovan was staring in the mirror. “We’ve got company.”
“Are you sure?”
He made no reply but accelerated hard. The Porsche’s tail snaked on the slippery surface and Donovan twitched the wheel to control it. He took a turning and sped off past industrial buildings.
“I’m sure,” he muttered. “A Merc.”
They came to a junction with a dual carriageway, where he turned left and raced off on a wet road that was clear of snow. Ahead was a roundabout with signboards indicating a motorway. They turned onto the roundabout, slipping in front of a lorry. She knew Donovan was using it as cover, but it could only give them a temporary breathing space. When the lorry turned onto the motorway access road, she was not surprised that Donovan continued round. They left the roundabout and regained the dual carriageway, now going in the opposite direction.
Anne recognised the road from which they had come. Donovan turned off the main road and made a number of left and right-hand turns in quick succession. They found themselves on a tree-lined road running parallel with the river which lay to their right. There were no buildings and the area was deserted.
“Are they still following?” Anne asked.
“Can’t see anyone at the moment.”
Anne was beginning to feel safe when she spotted the road sign. They were in a dead end. She mentioned this to Donovan who was studying the mirrors. His expression was grim.
“Won’t we be all right down here?” Anne asked.
Donovan shook his head. “We’ve left a fresh trail in the snow.”
“Donovan, do you have a gun?”
“No.”
“Then what can we –”
With a jolt, Donovan pulled off onto the side of the road between the trees, where the surface felt firm but bumpy. He manoeuvred the car round to face back down the road and peered through the windscreen before turning off the headlights. They sat in the dark, watching another heavy fall of snowflakes swirling around them.
“Another fifteen minutes and our trail would be blotted out completely.”
“But we don’t have that much time, do we?” Anne said.
“A minute or two at most, is my guess.” Suddenly he turned to face her. “Anne, get out and take our bags from the boot. Quickly!”
Anne leapt out and grabbed the bags, slamming the car’s front down firmly. Bewildered, she bent down to speak.
“What now?”
“No time to explain. Get the bags and take cover behind a tree over there. Whatever happens, stay hidden.”
“But –”
“Just do it! Please.”
Anne ran back and took shelter. It all seemed improbable, the empty street with only the twin tracks in the snow to show where they had come, the black Porsche hidden behind the trees in the dark with its lights switched off and the engine idling. For a minute that felt like an eternity she stood there, not noticing the cold, but aware that she was trembling.
Then she saw it. At the far end, lights appeared, and she heard a car coming quickly towards them. She ducked back behind the tree and glanced over at Donovan. Her heart froze in her chest as she saw him lean forward and touch the steering wheel briefly with his forehead.
The car was approaching fast and would soon be upon them. What was Donovan planning to do? If he was going to escape, why had he left her behind with the luggage? Would he try to evade their pursuers and come back for her? Seconds later, she had her answer, and it was more horrifying than she had imagined.
When the oncoming car was thirty yards away, the Porsche roared and leapt from cover, its wheels spinning. Donovan hit the accelerator at the same time as he turned on the headlights and raced out onto the road at full throttle. Anne winced, bracing herself for a head-on crash. Startled by the lights, the oncoming driver swerved. His car skidded across the snowy ground and smashed heavily into a tree. Anne heard metal crunching and glass shattering. As she gasped for breath, the air was filled with the smell of petrol. A second later, the car exploded in a fireball.
In its light she saw the Porsche skating across the road over snow and ice, Donovan fighting the wheel in a frantic effort to control it. The car slithered sideways, hurtling towards the river and vanished from view. Her stomach turned as she heard the grinding of metal followed by a deep splash.
Groaning, Anne broke cover and tried to run across the r
oad. The snowy surface concealed impacted ice. She slipped, lost her footing and fell heavily on her back. She rolled over, trying not to look at the burning Mercedes or think of its occupants. Anne struggled onto her knees and stood up cautiously, aching all over. She turned and followed the new tyre tracks left behind by the Porsche. Already they were filling with snow. She spat flakes from her lips and wiped them from her eyes, aware of tears running down her cheeks.
The ground sloped steeply down towards the river and she quickened her pace. The next time she fell, she pitched forward landing heavily on her knees. Her head struck the ground. Throbbing in every part of her body, Anne paused to take a breath before standing and almost screamed when an arm took her by the waist and began pulling her up.
“Anne, come on. We’ve got to get away from here.”
When she looked into Donovan’s face she almost fainted.
“But –”
“No time. Get the bags. We gotta go.”
*
It was almost an hour later when they walked into the entrance hall of a hotel in Sachsenhausen. They were both exhausted with fatigue and shock, and the warmth of the reception area made their faces tingle.
The young woman at the desk spoke rapidly in German, eyeing them with suspicion, but Donovan’s reply and the ensuing exchanges seemed to satisfy her. They were allocated a room on the first floor, where they collapsed on the bed. During their walk through the snowstorm they had been unable to talk. Donovan had counted the minutes before they heard sirens in the distance as the emergency services converged on the blazing wreck.
The ensuite bathroom surprised them. Anne had expected the customary shower cubicle, but instead she found a large old-fashioned enamel bath. Gratefully, she filled it and poured in a small bottle of lavender oil. Without a word, they stripped off their clothes and lowered themselves into the steaming fragrant water.
“I thought you were dead,” Anne said quietly.
“So did I.”
“What happened?”
“You saw it. I made them take avoiding action rather than risk a head-on crash.”
“But suppose he hadn’t been able to swerve like that.”
Donovan shrugged. “What else could I do?”
“You went off the road. And your car …”
“Yeah.”
“You jumped out?”
“I rolled out into the snow as the car slid down the bank.”
“How deep is the river at that point, d’you think?”
“Probably quite deep. Big barges tie up along there.”
“So you’ve lost your father’s lovely Porsche. I’m so sorry.”
“At least we’re alive, Anne. You can’t expect happy endings when you’re up against people like that.”
“I was thinking. How did they know where to find us? Was it Hallgarten?”
Donovan rested his head back against the taps and closed his eyes. “That was my first thought. But then I wondered why she would do that after trying to help us.”
“Who then? Helga?”
“That’s my guess. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was a plant. Who’d be better placed to access Hallgarten’s files?”
“But she looked so nice, so pretty and charming.”
“Perfect. You’d hardly infiltrate someone with a nervous twitch and an Iron Cross.”
Anne lay back in the fragrant water and stretched her legs.
“So what now?”
“Home. Germany’s biggest airport is just down the road from here.”
“Home,” Anne murmured. “It seems like a million miles away.”
Chapter 56
More Questions
Ralph was at the railway station early on Saturday afternoon to meet Anne and Donovan. They had caught a morning flight to Heathrow from Frankfurt, and Anne had been surprised when Donovan opted to go home with her. He seemed less worried about being watched or followed, though typically, he suggested that they be met at Wolverton, by boat.
They descended the steep stairway by the road bridge down to the towpath where Marnie was waiting for them on Sally Ann. Wrapped in winter clothing, they cruised home in still air under an opaque sky clutching mugs of steaming coffee laced with brandy. By the time they reached Cosgrove lock the light was fading, and dusk was coming down when they steered into the docking area at Glebe Farm. Anne felt like kissing the ground as she hopped onto the bank to tie up.
While trout and almonds baked in the oven, the four of them sat in the saloon with a glass of mulled wine and Anne and Donovan told their story. Anne tried to recount the events in as matter-of-fact a tone as possible. When she reached the final incident she handed over to Donovan.
“I was sure they were on to us and I didn’t hold out much hope that we’d get away. They’d only stop looking for us if they were convinced we were dead.”
“And you think this student, Helga, tipped them off?” Marnie said.
“It’s just an idea. Anyway, when we left Hallgarten’s flat I saw we were being followed and all we could do was make a run for it. I thought we’d lost them when I realised I’d made a serious mistake, driven into a dead end. On one side was perimeter fencing around an industrial site, on the other was a steep slope down to the river.”
“You couldn’t drive back out?” Ralph asked.
“That was my plan for if they came down that way. I turned the car round and parked off the road between trees, ready to rush out when they went past us. If they didn’t come, we’d wait for an hour or two then take our chances on the road again.”
“But they did come.”
“Of course. It was Friday evening. Everyone had gone home from work. We were the only car leaving tracks in the snow round there. It was inevitable they’d find us. Sitting there, I suddenly had an idea. It was crazy, but I knew we couldn’t out-run them.”
“How did you know it was them in the dark?”
“That wasn’t difficult,” Anne interjected. “They were racing like lunatics. Every other car we’d seen that evening had been crawling along.”
“Anne’s right,” Donovan said. “As soon as I saw their lights and heard their engine, I knew it had to be them. I waited till they were almost up to us. I just hoped the car would move fast enough in those conditions. The tyres bit into the rough ground under the snow and we lurched out onto the roadway. I turned on the full beams and hit the throttle. My car snaked but kept going. We were right in their path. The driver had no time to think. He just swerved, hit the brakes, lost control and skidded straight into a tree. He didn’t stand a chance. I clipped the kerb and went off the road. The ground fell away steeply at that point. The brakes were useless. Steering was impossible.”
“I heard the car hit the river,” Anne said. “I thought Donovan had gone with it.”
Marnie held a hand to her mouth. “My God!”
Ralph said, “I think I could do with a spot more brandy.”
They spent the next half hour re-examining the events of the journey. Donovan was convinced the tyre tracks would have been covered by the time the emergency services discovered the burning car. Any traces not filled in by snow would have been obliterated by fire engines, ambulances and police cars. There were no witnesses to testify to the presence of the black Porsche that was now lying deep below the surface in the dark murky water of the river Main. It could be years before it was discovered, if at all.
Ralph brought them back to the original reason for the journey to see Hallgarten. Donovan took out his notepad and presented the facts given by the professor. It took less than two minutes.
“That’s it?” Marnie said.
Donovan closed the pad. “That’s it.”
“So we’re no further forward. After all you’ve been through.”
“I’m not sure we are no further forward,” said Ralph. “One fact stands out, the date when Knightly lost contact.”
“September 1944,” said Donovan. “I’ve been thinking about that. It must have been someone conn
ected with Knightly Court.”
“The Deveres?” Marnie sounded incredulous.
“Not necessarily,” said Ralph. “Let’s look at possibilities. Marcus Devere was around at the time, so he has to be taken into account. He had a wife in those days. No-one’s mentioned her so far. He had a brother, though we know he was already missing in action in France and was later confirmed as dead. Any other family?”
“Was the dead brother married?” Marnie asked.
“Don’t know.”
“Who would know?”
“George Stubbs,” said Anne. “He was only a child back then, but I’m sure he’d know that sort of thing.”
“We could give him a ring,” Marnie said.
“Perhaps it would be better to sleep on it and contact him tomorrow,” Ralph said. “Other questions might have occurred to us by then.”
Marnie nodded. “Seems reasonable. A night’s sleep would certainly be good for –”
They all heard the sound and turned their heads towards the stern. It was like a distant wailing. Anne got up and was walking back towards the sleeping cabin before anyone else reacted.
“It’s Dolly!”
Anne was right. The cat warbled a greeting as she headed for her feeding bowl in the corner like a missile homing in on its target. Her fur was glistening.
“Look out of the windows,” Anne called from the stern.
Marnie pulled curtains aside and they stared out. During the meal snow had been falling. It covered the bank and was settling on the branches of trees in the spinney. Anne returned to the saloon holding a snowball she had scooped from the steps by the stern doors. She laid it ceremoniously on the draining board in the galley like a trophy.
“Talk about Winter Wonderland,” she said. “If it lasts, it’ll be my first ever white Christmas.”
The snow was falling steadily in large flakes unruffled by any breeze, like the ones that had covered their tracks in Germany. As they gazed out, Anne was thinking that snow would never seem quite the same again.
Chapter 57
George
It was still dark and it had stopped snowing when Anne got out of bed on Sunday morning. She had a plan and knew exactly what she was going to do. In the shower, she thought about their discussion the evening before and knew that despite all their efforts they had reached a dead end. She also thought about Donovan and admitted to herself that she was slightly surprised that he had opted to stay on Sally Ann rather than join her in the attic room. It was the understanding of his motives that led to her plan.