The Haunted Lady

by Bill Kitson

  Jäger gave details of the family background, much of which was news to us, before concentrating on Chloe’s grandparents and their histories. ‘He was a cabinetmaker, she was a scientist. That might seem a strange combination, but they were very happy together. They met when she was seeking someone to make some furniture for her apartment. My father used to say that he was more interested in the client than the commission she had given him. He also said he deliberately took his time over making the goods, and returned several times on the pretext of checking that the work was what she wanted. In reality he used those meetings to court her.’

  He paused, gathering his memories before continuing, ‘They were well thought of by the regime, I believe. In my mother’s case it was for the research she was carrying out, which to the East German authorities could prove both profitable and prestigious. My father’s work was also deemed important, because much of what he made was exported to the West, earning valuable foreign currency.’

  Eve translated, pausing occasionally for clarification of a word or phrase Jäger had used. When she had finished, she waited for a second or two before adding, ‘I ought to tell you, Chloe, that your mother’s family are Jewish by religion.’

  It was clear that although the news came as a great shock to Chloe, her fiancé was much less surprised. ‘I thought that might be so, when you mentioned that Chloe’s mother was called Devorah.’

  The revelation was clearly upsetting Chloe, and the reason for her distress soon became apparent. She looked at Michael as she asked, ‘What about us? What about our plans?’

  ‘I don’t see that it alters them one bit, Chloe. Let’s face it, your father and mother obviously knew that and it didn’t prevent them getting married.’

  ‘I understand that, Michael, but my father wasn’t an Anglican vicar. What would you tell your parishioners?’

  ‘I’d tell them the same as I’m telling you, that my religion and theirs is based upon the teachings of someone whose mother was Jewish.’

  ‘Oh! I hadn’t thought of that.’

  Eve had been quietly updating Chloe’s uncle on the conversation. When he heard Michael’s final words, Jäger reached across and shook his hand, before telling Chloe, ‘You have picked a fine young man to spend your life with. I wish other people were as understanding and tolerant as he is.’

  Chapter Twenty

  We brewed tea, which Jäger seemed to be able to consume in quantities even Johnny Pickersgill would have struggled to match, before he began to tell Chloe about her father’s activities and her parents’ escape from East Germany.

  As reassurance, Eve touched Chloe’s arm and told her, ‘We have learned some things of your father’s background that very few people know. Please don’t be alarmed by what your uncle is about to tell you.’

  ‘They met when my mother brought him home for a meal. He was supposedly a Polish research student who was gaining experience by working at the laboratory my mother headed. It was only much later when we discovered that very little about your father was as it seemed. Don’t misunderstand me, he was doing his duty for his country. The time he spent working at the laboratory was only part of his cover. In order to carry off the pretence he had to do several such jobs, all the time working his way into the establishment in order to gain their secrets. He wasn’t actively spying on what happened at the laboratory. His orders were to become accepted, trusted and then gain whatever information he could. It was a long, slow process, but I believe he carried it off extremely well. The time at the laboratory gave him excellent credibility and enabled him to move onto his next operation. He would have been even more successful, but somewhere along the line as he discovered more and more of the East German and other communist states’ secrets he stumbled across some information that, if leaked would have had terrible repercussions. He revealed this to my parents as he and Devorah began making their escape plans. He also told us that, although he could not be certain, there was a possibility that he might have been betrayed. He would not tell us what those secrets were. He said it was better for us if we didn’t know.’

  ‘Betrayed by whom?’ I interjected.

  ‘That’s the problem, I don’t know. I’ve tried to discover the identity of the person he suspected might have betrayed him, but without success.’

  ‘Is that the reason you joined the Stasi?’

  Eve translated as I explained to Michael and Chloe that the Stasi was the East German secret police. I turned to see Jäger staring at me in open-mouthed astonishment.

  ‘Adam, he wants to know how you found that out. Shall I tell him?’ Eve looked concerned.

  I agreed, and after she told Jäger, she smiled at his reply, but didn’t translate it until I pressed her. ‘I’m not saying, you’d get far too conceited.’

  ‘Risk it.’

  ‘He says if you’d taken up chess you’d be a Grand Master by now.’

  ‘Hardly, it’s purely that words are my business. If I hadn’t been trained in interview techniques, I probably wouldn’t have noticed that he knew Lumsden to be a former Hungarian agent.’

  Jäger began to speak again and there was little or nothing light-hearted in Eve’s ensuing translation. ‘He joined the Stasi as a way of escaping torture and imprisonment, and to seek retribution against those who had harmed his family. Within a year of Andrew and Devorah’s escape his mother became ill and, following her death, he and his father, along with his uncle, aunt and cousins, had been shipped off to a remote camp in Russia, deported, in fact. There they were almost starved and continuously brainwashed. Within five years Isaac was the only survivor. By then the authorities were convinced that the “cleansing operation” as they called it had worked and that he had adopted their philosophy hook, line, and sinker. In fact, all he was doing was biding his time. Having pretended to embrace their ideology he became acceptable once more, and over the years he has slowly eliminated those who were responsible for the mistreatment of his family. Once that job was done and he considered it safe to do so, he obtained a transfer to Poland, from where he knew that ethnic Germans could be repatriated to West Germany.’

  Eve stopped there, and I suggested it was time we all had another cup of tea. Although Jäger spoke next to no English, it was clear from his expression that the word ‘tea’ was part of a universal language.

  Once everyone’s mugs were refilled, he continued, via Eve. ‘To ensure he was accepted for the repatriation programme he had to do so in someone else’s name. In order to do this he had to fake his own death and assume another identity. He stole a corpse from a mortuary, safe in the knowledge that the morticians dared not own up to the authorities that they had lost a body. He switched dental records with the dead man and then burnt a house down with the corpse inside. Only then was he allowed to register for the emigration scheme.’

  ‘This must have taken years and years,’ I commented.

  ‘It did; he only reached West Berlin eighteen months ago. Since then he has been saving money to be able to afford the fare to England. He wanted to discover what had happened to Devorah and the child.’

  We decided to call a halt then as the revelations were proving emotionally draining both for Chloe and her uncle. Later, when he resumed his account, Jäger told her in greater detail how her parents had succeeded in getting past the border guards and into West Berlin. This account was far more graphic than the abridged version we had heard the night before.

  ‘In the camp, my father lasted longer than all the others. I think the reason was that he clung on until he was certain I was old enough and trustworthy enough to be told the secrets he had concealed from me earlier. I was nineteen when he died – a long, slow and cruel death – but before the end he made me swear never to reveal any of this to outsiders.’

  Jäger smiled at his niece. ‘I think that as you are family I can tell you and your friends what I have never spoken of to anyone. I adored Devorah, she was given charge of me when I was little and the bond that we struck then never wav
ered. My father told me that although the other members of our family had died, Devorah, Andrew and their child would still be in peril if news of what he was to tell me ever got out. He emphasised that word “ever”.’

  ‘How could that be, if they were living in England by then?’ Michael asked.

  I smiled at his naïveté, the humour of which I could see wasn’t lost on Jäger either.

  He gave the vicar a long, expressionless stare before responding to Eve’s translation. ‘Believe me, young man, if you were to spend half a day in the Stasi filing rooms you would never have asked that question.’

  I decided to ask one question that was intriguing me. ‘Last night you touched on the fact that Andrew and Devorah escaped to West Berlin but you didn’t go into detail. Would you explain to all of us how they managed that? I know it was extremely difficult, even prior to the building of the Wall.’

  Before replying, Jäger took Chloe’s hand once more. ‘Your father was an extremely brave and resourceful young man. His courage was only matched by that of your mother. The tragedy is that they didn’t live to earn the rewards of their bravery. He arranged for a false trading account to be set up via the British Secret Service. The business was a shell company in West Berlin that existed solely to place orders for furniture with my father. Several of these smaller transactions had already taken place, and the furniture delivered to this fictitious company before the key one that would effect their escape. The arrangement was in place long before he and Devorah needed to go. It was a necessary back-up plan, he told my father, but I don’t think even he realised exactly how useful it would be.’

  Jäger paused again and stared meaningfully at his empty teacup. Conversation was suspended as we made a fresh pot. Once his thirst had been assuaged, he continued, coming soon to the most fascinating and informative part of his narrative. ‘Your father arranged for an order specifying a range of furniture to be placed. It was quite extensive, and my father worked long hours, sometimes all night, to complete the job. There were two wardrobes, a dresser, a set of dining chairs and a table.’ Jäger smiled as he mentioned the tables, which struck me as odd.

  ‘Once everything was made, my father applied for a permit to export and deliver the order. Naturally the permit was granted easily. The regime was desperate to encourage money to flow into the country, and this was a good example of East German craftsmanship triumphing. The furniture was loaded onto my father’s ancient delivery van. Naturally, as the items were heavy, he had to take his “assistant” along to help with the unloading. That assistant was your father, Chloe, and your mother was inside one of the wardrobes in the back of the van, protected by several blankets. They drove across the border and once they reached West Berlin my father went to the address of the “customer”, where everything was unloaded. He then returned to the East and your parents remained in freedom.’

  ‘Didn’t anyone question the fact that there were two occupants in the cab on the way out and only one on the way back?’ I asked.

  ‘My father thought of that, so he returned via a different checkpoint, using the cover story of a road blockage and cursing the West Berlin authorities for not clearing it, forcing him to take a diversion. That was another of your father’s ideas.’

  ‘It must have been a very large van to cope with such a lot of furniture,’ Michael remarked.

  I think it was nothing more than a flippant remark, but sometimes a comment made in all innocence can have unforeseen and dramatic consequences. This was one such occasion. ‘It was quite large,’ Jäger replied, ‘but even then it would have struggled to cope, but for the fact that some of the furniture was packed flat for assembly at its destination. Which reminds me,’ he turned to Chloe, ‘do you still have the table? Do you have any idea what it contained?’

  ‘What table is that?’

  It didn’t need Jäger’s sigh or his reply to gauge his reaction, the disappointment was etched on his face. ‘If you have to ask that question then you don’t have it, and that means you don’t know about what it contained. That is a terrible shame. Your grandfather spent many hours making that table and it was a masterpiece of cunning design. The table was constructed in two matching halves that were fixed together using the oblong legs as spacers on all four sides. When it was assembled for use it was a rectangular dining table, but for the purposes of the delivery it looked just like one of those pieces of cheap timber that are used to stand things on to protect them in transit.’

  Eve’s gasp of astonishment matched my own.

  ‘The pallet,’ I exclaimed.

  ‘You know of this?’ he asked.

  Eve started to reply, but I cut in before she could say much. ‘Ask Herr Jäger if the name Bellini means anything to him.’

  She didn’t need to, his expression spoke volumes. He began to answer my question before Eve translated it. In the excited gabble that followed, one word stood out, clear and stark. The word was ‘vier’. Eve was still looking stunned when I sought confirmation from her. ‘Did he say there were four? Does that mean there were four Bellini miniatures hidden inside that table, not just the two we already know about?’

  Eve nodded and was about to say something, but had to pause as Jäger began to speak again, his tone slightly calmer and more measured. Inside the first couple of sentences I heard another name I recognised. It even seemed to ring bells with Michael and Chloe. Once Jäger stopped, Eve told us what he’d said, speaking slowly and carefully. ‘Hidden inside that table were four Bellini miniatures plus two larger paintings by the Dutch artist Vermeer. They were “acquired” by his father following the end of the Second World War. He bought them very cheap from someone anxious to visit South America. That is the family’s euphemism for a war criminal keen to escape justice. The paintings were given to Andrew and Devorah for two reasons. The miniatures were to be sold. Two of them would pay the family’s ransom to get to the West the other two would pay for their upkeep once they reached safety. The two larger paintings were a wedding present, a dowry if you like.’

  I turned to Chloe and Michael. ‘In Bennett’s ledger he sold two Bellini miniatures on behalf of Chloe’s mother, but there’s no mention of him selling the other two, or the Vermeer works. That leaves several unanswered questions. First, were the other paintings sold? In which case, what happened to the money? If not, we must assume they are either still hidden in that table, or they are somewhere in Elmfield Grange. That’s one fact we need to ascertain. The other is even more serious. Let’s suppose that after the two Bellini miniatures were sold the ransom money was paid. We know that they raised a whacking great sum of money. What we don’t know is who was entrusted to deliver the ransom, and if that person reneged on the arrangement and double-crossed them. If the money was handed over in line with the arrangement, how come the family weren’t able to escape? Somewhere along the way somebody pocketed the cash. That’s a terribly cynical act, at the expense of people waiting and hoping to move to a better life. There are a lot of imponderables in what I’ve just said, but there’s one thing I am totally certain of, and that is the need to re-examine that container with proper lighting as a matter of extreme urgency.’

  ‘Why is it so urgent?’ Michael asked. ‘It’s still at the museum. Surely if the container has been hidden away for all these years, a while longer won’t make any difference?’

  ‘There has already been one attempt to break into the museum storerooms. Now we know what the thieves were after we should remove the table and its contents before they try again.’

  ‘Hang on,’ Eve said, ‘if someone is determined to get hold of that container, surely they would be watching the museum? If they see us removing it wouldn’t that simply switch their attention to the new location?’

  It was a valid comment, so we hatched an elaborate plan involving diversionary tactics. To put these in place we enlisted the help of the museum’s curator. Evans was more than happy to cooperate once I explained the need for the ruse. I think it made an exciting ch
ange from the routine of his average day. We also required a vehicle. That stumped us for a while, but Michael was able to supply the solution. ‘A member of the congregation at St Mary’s has a removals business. I feel sure he would be happy to lend us a van. With luck he will provide a driver too.’

  Chapter Twenty-one

  We travelled to Dinsdale early that afternoon. At Elmfield vicarage the party separated. Michael and Chloe transferred to the borrowed van, with the owner, while Eve and I continued in my car, along with Jäger. ‘We need to give them enough time to load the van and get well clear of the museum before we approach,’ Eve explained to him.

  ‘It will also give us chance to see if they are followed,’ I pointed out. ‘If there is no sign of another vehicle trailing them it might mean that the diversion hasn’t worked and we’d have gained nothing. That stresses the importance of us keeping out of sight but close enough to watch the traffic.’

  ‘I assume that’s why you brought those binoculars with you?’

  ‘Absolutely correct.’

  As Eve was telling Jäger this I slowed down, searching for a suitable parking place. Her response to his comment made him chuckle. Eve explained, ‘Herr Jäger says you would have made an excellent agent.’

  ‘And what did you say?’

  ‘I told him that anyone less like James Bond would be hard to imagine.’

  There was a large open area opposite the museum. One corner of the park had been given over to a children’s playground, the remainder being used for walking or as a picnic site. The river ran along the far side of the park, and I could see a couple of fisherman trying their luck on the bank. I found an ideal place, far enough away to avoid attracting attention, yet close enough to observe everything that was happening.

  Our decoy van was parked alongside the main entrance to the museum, its tailgate dropped to allow for loading. As we waited I scanned the vehicles parked in and around the museum grounds. I couldn’t be certain, even with the aid of the binoculars, but I thought there was a driver in one of the cars.