“We’ll see, George. We’ll see.”
Chapter 58
“WHERE HAS HE gone?”
“Where has ’oo gone?”
Koehler wiped a weary hand across his face and then looked back at Gloria. “Your husband, Gloria, where has he gone?”
“I ain’t seen ’im in weeks, Mr. Koehler, I swear. All’s I’ve ’eard is that ’e’s been down the docks, up to his usual. You know what ’e’s like; ’e’s always up to something.”
“Gloria, I’m tired. Please, stop this, and just tell me. Where has he gone?”
“I swear down, Mr. Koehler, I swear on my—” Gloria broke off as her landlady was roughly pushed into the room by Schmitt. The old lady looked around at the assembled soldiers and then fixed her watery eyes on Koehler, who cocked his head at her and then at Schmitt.
“She heard them arguing last night. Then a tall man came this morning and left with Chivers,” Schmitt said.
“Did you hear where they were going?” Koehler asked her.
“No, sir, but he looked a terrible man who took Mr. Chivers, a terrible fierce man.”
“Rossett,” said Schmitt, redundantly.
Koehler waved a hand, dismissing the old woman, and Schmitt swung her around and into the arms of a soldier by the door. The old woman almost fell, and Koehler frowned at his colleague before turning back to Gloria.
“So, we know now that you are a liar.”
“Please, sir. Please, my George is a good man,” Gloria sobbed, and Koehler held up his hand.
“Stop, please.”
“This brute came in ’ere and dragged ’im off. ’E ’it me, ’e did, like I was a man, just ’it me in the face, just like that!” She waved a fist at Koehler, who rubbed his eyes. “My George done ’is best. ’E tried, lord help ’im, but ’e’s an old man. Sick ’e is, all those years in the cold they’ve ravaged ’im, ravaged ’im.”
“Can I shoot her?” Schmitt said in German to Koehler, who shook his head.
“Gloria, please.” Koehler held up his hand again to bring the lament to an end.
“My George wants a quiet life. We need to enjoy our retirement, quietly like . . .”
Koehler finally signaled to one of the guards, who roughly shook Gloria, raised his hand as if to strike her, then tilted his head, putting a finger to his lips.
“Shush.”
Gloria sobbed, then fell silent.
“Listen to me, Gloria. Your husband is in a lot of trouble, and so are you. Do you understand?” Koehler paused, letting the words sink in. “You have a very small window of opportunity here, very, very small. Once I close this window it is gone, and these men will take you outside into the street and kill you. Do you understand?”
Gloria’s knees buckled slightly and she looked at the two young soldiers flanking her, neither of whom looked happy at the prospect of killing her. The younger one looked at his colleague and then back at Koehler, stiffening to attention.
“I can ’elp, sir, please . . .”
Koehler wagged the finger again.
“So, before I close this window, Gloria, you have one chance, and one chance only, to save your life, and possibly that of your husband. I’ll ask you again. Where has your husband gone with Rossett?”
“Pat Flanagan. ’E’s gone to see the Irishman, sir.”
Koehler looked at Schmitt, who shrugged.
“Who is this Flanagan?”
“A smuggler?” Schmitt said, causing Gloria to look at him.
“Guns, sir, guns and other things, ’e can get you anything, but ’e’s a nasty man, sir.” She looked at Koehler. “You know what those Irish are like, sir, all the same.”
“Where will we find him?”
“I don’t know where ’e lives, but I know where ’e carries out ’is business. In all the pubs down Wapping way. Dockers’ pubs, sir, not nice at all, Mr. Koehler.”
“Is that where George went?”
“I think so, sir. I can’t say for sure though. That man dragged ’im out before I ’eard tell.”
“Take her to Charing Cross.” Koehler waved a dismissive hand, and Gloria started screaming as the guards dragged her from the room. Koehler closed his eyes as the screaming went up a decibel on the stairs. He only opened them again once the front door had been slammed behind her.
Schmitt shook his head.
“I would have thought Chivers would want locking up sooner than being stuck in here with that.”
“You should use her when you question suspects,” Koehler replied, gesturing for Schmitt to give him a cigarette. The other German fished in his coat, produced the packet, and handed it across with his lighter.
“Do we go find this pub?”
Koehler shook his head. He lit a cigarette and passed the packet back to Schmitt, who remained standing on the spot recently occupied by Gloria.
“Waste of time, they won’t be there now. We’ll set up at the local police station, low key. If we go in heavy we’ll make a bigger mess of things than we did at the cemetery. Just get a few men again, plus Werner. I want every informant from the docks spoken to quickly. We need to find out quickly who this Irishman is and where he works; we don’t have much time. And don’t, whatever you do, make any mention of the diamonds.”
“May I speak freely?” Schmitt said.
“As long as you are quick, yes.”
“All of this has been handled low key. Pretty much everything except the breakout from the cells has happened off the record so far.”
“And?”
“Would I be right in saying, if you’ll forgive me, that there is another reason for that secrecy?”
“What are you saying, Schmitt?”
Schmitt checked the door and then leaned in close to Koehler, resting his hand on the arm of the chair so that he was just inches above his superior.
“I’m talking about the diamonds. I think I understand what you are trying to do.”
“What am I trying to do?”
“If you can get to the diamonds before anyone else, well . . . let’s just say I understand.” Schmitt winked at Koehler, smiling.
“Did you just wink at me?”
Schmitt frowned.
“I . . . er . . .”
“I’m trying to keep myself alive, Schmitt. I don’t care about diamonds, I care about staying alive. If, and it is a big if, we find these possibly imaginary diamonds, they will be handed in with whatever prisoners we turn up. Is that understood?”
“Of course, sir. I thought, well, with you being so intent on keeping things quiet, that . . .”
“You don’t hunt rats with a bass drum, Schmitt.”
“Sir?”
Koehler took another drag on his cigarette, then looked around for an ashtray. When he didn’t find one, he tapped the end, letting the ash drop onto the carpet.
“Have you ever banged a drum in a barn full of rats, Schmitt?”
Schmitt didn’t reply; he merely looked confused.
“They scatter, into shadows and corners. You might kill a few in the rush, but once they are hiding you have no chance of finding them, and to make things worse, all your neighbors will come to see what you are doing, and tell you how you are doing it all wrong.”
Schmitt nodded as though he understood, even though he didn’t, so Koehler continued.
“The reason I want this low key is to protect us. The less that is known, the less damage it can do us. If Rossett turns up on the BBC in Canada a month before he is due to be given an Iron Cross by the Führer, things will be difficult to explain, won’t they?”
“Yes, sir.”
“But if we can get him, and a few other players, we will look good. So forget about diamonds, forget about anything other than finding Rossett and the Jew. If you do that, we might just come out the other si
de with our careers and our throats intact. Yes?”
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”
Koehler stood up, brushed past Schmitt, and stalked out of the room onto the landing. Werner stood to attention at the top of the stairs and saluted.
“The woman is en route back to Charing Cross, sir.”
“How many men do we have?”
“Fifteen, sir, one truck and your car. Plus the others out and about watching addresses.”
“Mount up. We’re going to Wapping.”
Werner saluted as Koehler passed him heading down the narrow staircase. Schmitt emerged from the room, made eye contact with Werner, and shook his head.
“Madness,” he whispered as he passed the old soldier without looking at him.
Werner didn’t reply. He just followed orders.
Chapter 59
FROM HIS VANTAGE point at the top of the road, Rossett watched Koehler bounce down the steps and out of the house. The clouds had let go and the fine drizzle clung to his face like oil as he looked back toward where the little Volkswagen was parked behind him, hidden on the corner among some other cars. Kate had stopped next to a school yard and some children were playing outside, oblivious to the rain. Rossett could see Jacob watching the children, wiping the side window with his sleeve occasionally.
He turned back to watch the troops mount up and the two vehicles pull away. He waited a moment, watching, thinking, then returned to the Volkswagen and climbed in.
“Did you see my Gloria?” Chivers pulled at his shoulder from the seat behind.
“No.”
“I need to check she’s all right.”
“You can’t.”
“I ’ave to!”
Rossett twisted in his seat to look at Chivers, catching Kate’s concerned eye as he did so.
“Look, George, you can’t go back to the house yet. They might have left men in there, waiting for you, waiting for us. Where else can we go?”
“We could go to my flat,” Kate offered.
“No, you didn’t go to work today. If he knows you called about George, he will have put two and two together, and we can’t risk that he’s having the place watched.”
“What call about me?” Chivers leaned forward, looking from one to the other.
Rossett ignored him.
“We need somewhere where nobody will notice us.”
“What about the docks?” Chivers tried again.
“We’ll stand out like a sore thumb.”
“We could just drive around for a few hours?” Kate again.
“Too risky, they might have circulated the car.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the only sounds the children playing outside and the odd flurry of rain on the car roof.
“We can’t sit ’ere all day,” Chivers said.
“Your uncle,” Rossett said, looking at Kate.
“My uncle James? Are you mad?”
“Will he be home?”
“I can call his office, but I’m not sure.”
“Sterling?” Chivers chimed in.
“He’s the only one I can think of. We’ll be safe there, for a few hours.”
“It might have escaped your attention ’e had his men shooting at you the other night,” Chivers said, shaking his head.
“Things have changed. Now someone he loves is involved,” Rossett said, looking at Kate.
“I bleedin’ well ’ope so,” Chivers replied as the car started.
MOST OF THE large houses in Knightsbridge had been commandeered by the Germans in the first few months of the occupation, but a few still stood apart as little English castles. The privileged classes had just about retained a toehold in the most expensive area of London. A few had even managed to regain their properties from the Germans after long and arduous court cases, helped by good lawyers and a lot of patience. What helped more was being a knight of the realm, especially a knight of the realm who worked alongside the Germans and had been a covert supporter of Oswald Mosley throughout most of the thirties, before he became prime minister, when he’d prowled London in polished boots and a black shirt.
Sir James Sterling’s front door had been safe from the German jackboot from day one.
Rossett, Kate, Chivers, and Jacob stood in the black-and-white-tiled foyer of the mansion as the maid went to fetch the master of the house.
Chivers looked around, then up at the decorated ceiling and the chandelier, and shook his head.
“Bigger than the Locarno bleedin’ ballroom.”
Jacob stared up, following the old man’s lead, his mouth open in wonder; then he looked at Rossett and smiled.
Rossett smiled back and squeezed the boy’s hand.
Down the hall they heard Sterling instructing the maid to make tea. It was only when he finally saw who was standing at the end of the hallway that he stopped.
“What the hell do you think you are doing here?” Sterling suddenly charged down the hall, a scrunched-up copy of the Times in one hand.
“We had nowhere else to go, Uncle James,” Kate said.
“Coming here is madness. You must leave at once.”
“I don’t think so,” said Rossett. “We’ll stay a few hours, then go.”
“No, no, no. I’ll not have it. You must leave and take these with you.” Sterling spoke to Kate and pointed at Chivers and Jacob.
Rossett released the boy’s hand and stepped forward to Sterling, taking hold of his arm and pulling him close.
“We’re staying,” Rossett whispered.
“I can’t allow it. I’ve too much to lose.”
“We’re staying,” Rossett repeated. “I’m hungry.” Rossett stared at Sterling, who stared back before swallowing and looking at the other three.
After a beat, he called, “Mary! Where are you, girl?”
The maid stepped forward from a distant doorway and gave a half bow.
“Yes, sir.”
“Tea and, I don’t know, something to eat in my study.”
“Is everything all right, sir?” The girl eyed Rossett and seemed unsure.
Rossett stared at Sterling, who licked his lips.
“These men are associates of my niece’s and mine. Everything is fine, dear, absolutely fine. Now run along.”
“We’d rather not be disturbed this afternoon,” Rossett said to the maid, who looked at her master for confirmation, unsure of the situation.
“After you’ve brought up the food, we’d prefer some privacy,” Sterling confirmed with a wave of his hand.
“Yes, sir.”
After the maid retreated, Sterling turned to face Rossett again, his face angry but his voice level.
“Are you happy now?” he hissed.
“You’ve just saved two lives,” Rossett replied.
“Follow me.” Sterling spun on his heel and retreated along the hall. Rossett glanced at Chivers, who shook his head and followed with Jacob.
Kate stepped forward and slid her arm around Rossett’s, pulling him close so she could whisper in his ear.
“I think this will work,” she said softly, watching the other three walk ahead.
“It better. I have to keep the boy safe for a few more hours . . . and you.”
Kate nodded, her eyes on Rossett so intently that he felt his heart kick an extra beat in his chest. Kate opened her mouth as if to speak, then looked down at the floor. Rossett felt his head being drawn to her by something stronger than gravity.
He opened his mouth and kissed her. Closing his eyes in unison with hers, he felt her hand tighten on his arm and her body lean into him. His free hand hovered for a moment and then reached up and touched the side of her face.
“We’ll be fine, won’t we?” Kate whispered.
Rossett nodded.
“Do you promise?
”
Rossett smiled.
“I promise,” he whispered back, feeling what it meant to lie to someone he loved.
Chapter 60
THE TICK-TOCK OF the clock was the only sound in the study except for Jacob’s occasional turn of a page. The boy was lying on the floor in front of a cold marble fireplace looking through an encyclopedia Kate had brought down from one of the floor-to-ceiling bookcases that lined three of the walls of the room.
Sterling stood up out of the red leather wing chair he’d been squirming in for the last three hours and flexed his back.
“Where are you going?” Rossett broke the silence, his voice as sudden as a brick through the window.
“Where I am going has got nothing to do with you,” Sterling replied.
“Sit down.”
“Sit down? Who are you to tell me to—”
“Sit.”
Sterling sighed and plopped back into the chair, slapping his hands against the oxblood leather armrests.
“It’s been three hours. You’ve come to my house and made me sit like some sort of prisoner. Don’t you think you could at least extend me the courtesy of telling me what is going on?”
“No.”
Sterling sighed again and rolled his head around, trying to free up the tension in his throbbing neck, then drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, showing the frustration of a man who was accustomed to being in control but who was now in the hands of others.
“What is to stop me from just walking out of this room?”
“Me,” Rossett replied.
“Is this the sort of man you consort with?” Sterling turned to Kate. “Your father would be disgusted.”
“Be quiet,” said Rossett.
“Why?”
“If you don’t, I’ll kill you.”
Sterling simply shook his head and looked at his niece. “Do you see? The man is an animal and a traitor. Your father would spin in his . . .” Outside, the gray afternoon was dimming down to darkness, and somewhere in the house a clock chimed four times. A few more minutes went by and a distant telephone rang.
The ringing stopped, and a moment passed before a soft knock came on the door.
The Darkest Hour: A Novel Page 37